


I’ll Try Not to Sing out of Key

by daysofinspiration



Series: Lifeline [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-19
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daysofinspiration/pseuds/daysofinspiration
Summary: He doesn’t always understand the situation she’s gotten herself into, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be there to help if she asks. He’ll always lend Brittany his ear.





	1. Chapter 1

“Well, why don’t you just use a dictionary?”

“Because I don’t know how to spell it, Mike. How do I look it up if I can’t spell it? And it isn’t even in English. That makes it a lot harder.”

“So just say it a different way. Mr Schue won’t care. Or just Google it. Type in ‘Spanish word for pa-‘”

He can practically hear Tina shake her head, “I refuse to use Google as a substitute for doing my homework. You know that.”

It isn’t like she’d be telling the website to write the paper for her, she would simply be asking it how to spell a word in Spanish. It’s how Mike managed with his paper when the translation guide in the back of their textbook wasn’t enough.

“I’ll just ask Mr Schue next time we see him. Is your paper done?”

Mike leans forward at his desk, shaking the mouse to bring his computer out of sleep. “Got it right here,” he says, bringing up the file he had minimised on the screen. “The Chang Family History, _en Español_. Besides that one part, do you need any other help with it?” He offers.

“No,” Tina declines, “I’m almost done. I just got to it late because I had that Geography report to write-”

“Which I’m sure you did fine on,” Mike interrupts.

Tina scoffs and then giggles, “You only say that because you’re the boyfriend.”

Mike starts spinning his computer chair in lazy half circles back and forth as he talks into the phone, “I say it because it’s true.”

“Okay, well. When I’m all done can you edit it? And can you print it for me too? I busted my printer.”

“Why don’t you get your dad to fix it?”

“… I haven’t exactly told him yet.”

Mike frowns, his voice taking on a mock-stern tone, “Tina. What did you do?”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing, okay? I’ll fix it. But can you print mine until I get around to it?”

“Sure. Like I’d say no.”

“You are so wonderful.”

“You only say that because you’re the girlfriend.”

Tina laughs and begins arguing with him but Mike gets distracted as his phone beeps that someone else is calling him. “Hey, Tina? Can I call you back? Someone else is on the other line.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” she jokes, “Someone more important than your girlfriend calling?”

“No one is more important than you, Tina. I love you. I’ll call you back later?”

Tina agrees and says her goodbye before hanging up. He ends the call and his phone stills for a moment before it buzzes and rings in his hands, _The_ _Jellyfish_ written across the display.

He’s entered as _The_ _Lobster_ in hers.

It’s the little things that make their friendship.

Smiling, Mike answers, “Hey, Britt.”

“Hi,” Brittany replies glumly.

A frown begins to etch itself onto Mike’s face, “What’s up?”

Brittany sighs but stays quiet on the other line.

“Brittany?”

She sighs again, “I… Never mind. I can’t talk right now, I’m supposed to be watching my sister until my parents come home.” Mike begins to protest, wondering why she called in the first place if she can’t talk, but she starts speaking again so he quiets. “Mike, do you…” 

“Yes?”

“Do you… do you believe in fate?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” the girl begins, “Like karma? Do you believe in karma? If somebody does something not so good then they’ll suffer for it? As payback? Or if someone does something they’re pretending is good but actually isn’t then the universe will be mad at them and make their life miserable?”

Mike blinks a few times, processing this. “What,” he starts, “What happened? Why… why do you think you’re being punished?” He’s not quite sure he’s following her train of thought.

“I just…” she lets out a long exhale. “What if I’m doing something for the wrong reason? What if I’m doing something nice but it actually isn’t? I don’t want to make this whole mess worse.”

“Define ‘nice.’” Mike asks, turning off his computer and propping his legs up on his desk. He keeps swivelling his chair back and forth though, fidgeting as he listens.

“I think I’m trying to make myself feel better because… because… because someone hurt me. But by me making myself feel better, I think I’m hurting someone else. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Mike spins once more, a little too forcefully this time, and his legs fall from the desk and drag on the floor until he’s facing away from the computer and looking out his window. He’s confused, trying to sort out exactly what the blonde is alluding to. Brittany isn’t someone to intentionally hurt someone. Brittany’s more the person who tries to help if someone’s been hurt. He sits for a long moment, thinking.

Eventually, he asks, “Brittany, did something happen? What’s wrong?”

But Mike realises he waited too long to ask and Brittany’s clammed up. He can tell she’s lying, trying to distract him from the real problem, when she answers, “I still haven’t started that Spanish paper for Mr Schue. I told him I’d rather write about Lord Tubbington and Charity’s family tree because it’s more interesting, but he said no. I also told him it was really mean to assign us the paper when he knew we’d be performing at Kurt’s Dad’s and Finn’s Mom’s wedding this weekend, but he didn’t listen. I should probably start that soon.”

“You sure you’re okay, Britt?”

“I’m fine,” she says heavily, her voice monotone, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up, leaving Mike really confused.

* * *

Tina excuses herself from the dance floor – they’ve basically been on the dance floor all night now – but Mike continues dancing, letting his body dictate what to do. He finds dancing therapeutic sometimes, he doesn’t have to think, he can just _do_.

He turns around, spotting Tina sitting down at one of the tables and rubbing her ankles through her strappy shoes. Rachel’s sitting with her, amicably chatting and waving her arms.

They’ve been dancing for a long time now; it seems like hours since Finn lead them all through their song for Kurt. Most of the adults wandered on and off the dance floor during the night, but a few of the Glee kids haven’t taken a break since the music started, dancing and laughing and going insane while the adults shake their heads at their antics.

Besides Mike, there are a few other people dancing, but most of the other Glee kids have finally given in to sore feet; not Mike though, he could keep going for hours. Sam and Quinn are twirling around each other off to one side of the dance floor, Sam’s wearing a huge grin and Quinn’s face is flushed as she twirls and her dress fans around her. Kurt and Puck are sitting at one of the tables talking with Kurt’s dad. Mercedes and Santana are leaning against the bar; Mercedes is chatting up the bartender, Santana looks bored. Finn’s standing over by the microphone talking with Mr Schue, probably trying to convince their teacher to let them do karaoke.

Artie wheels past him suddenly, breaking Mike’s focus of watching his friends as he continues dancing to scramble out of the wheelchair-bound boy’s way; he’s chasing after some of Finn’s younger cousins, their high-pitched laughter sounding over the music. They parade right across the dance floor, Artie quickly rolling after them but expertly avoiding running over anyone’s toes.

Rolling his eyes at his friend, Mike casts one more glance over the group of people with him on the dance floor before he goes over to join his girlfriend.

But something stops him.

He looks back and forth, missing the whirl of blonde hair that is attached to the only other person who gives him a run for his money when it comes to dancing. He can’t see her on the dance floor, and he knows she was there a few minutes ago.

Mike looks over at Artie, watching as the small children try to get him to run into a wall. Brittany isn’t with him.

He looks over at the other most likely choice; Brittany isn’t with Santana either.

Backing off the floor and towards the tables, Mike searches for any sign of the blonde girl. When he doesn’t find her his brows furrow, but he lets it go for the moment. She may have just gone to the washroom. “Hey, you finally decided to take a break!” Tina giggles, coming up behind him and hugging him before gracefully spinning in front of him.

“Hey, you finally decided to take a break!” Tina giggles, coming up behind him and hugging him before gracefully spinning in front of him.

“It’s less fun when you aren’t there. And even less when everyone else disappears too.”

She smiles, “Sorry, I was getting a foot cramp. I shouldn’t have worn these shoes, they’re a nightmare.”

“Go sit back down, I’ll get you something to drink so you can cool off.”

“Are you being a sweet, doting boyfriend, or are you just doing this so I’ll feel better sooner and will go dance with you again?”

Instead of answering Mike leans over and kisses her forehead before making his way to the bar to get himself and Tina a glass of water. When he returns, Tina’s sitting down at their table, Sam and Quinn with her. He lightly drops down next to her and offers her one of the drinks, which she takes and downs readily.

They talk with Sam and Quinn for a while; Mike’s foot twitches under the table the whole time in beat with the music still playing. The music is in his blood.

Eventually Kurt skips over to them, “Get off your asses, one of my aunts is going to teach us all how to line dance!” They comply, getting up and following him back out onto the floor.

Mike however, halts before they reach the group of people gathering. “Tina.”

“Mmm?”

“I’ll be back in a few, bathroom.”

“Oh sure, leave me just as we’re going to start dancing again.”

“Relax,” he assures, “I’ll be right back.”

Quickly making his way across the room, he steps into the hallway. It’s immediately much cooler, and the music isn’t as loud. There are a few people leaning against the walls, guys fanning themselves and girls rubbing their feet.

He tries the washrooms first, figuring that’s the first place she’d go and one of the few reasons she’d stop dancing. But when he asks one of the women leaving the ladies room if there’s a blonde teenager inside she tells him, “Nope, just me, Carole’s sister, and some pregnant woman who I think should be taken to the hospital because she looks ready to pop that child out any moment now.”

Mike blanches, because that’s a pleasant thought.

Wandering up and down the halls of the reception building Mike stumbles upon lots of people, but none of them the one he’s looking for. He starts peeking inside doors as he goes, hoping she just got lost trying to find the bathroom. It’s unlikely, but he isn’t sure what else to do.

When he tries the coatroom door he’s met with a surprise. Brittany’s sitting on the floor, surrounded by people’s hanging coats and jackets. Her long legs are stretched out in front of her and she’s leaning back on her hands. And there’s a sad look on her face.

“Brittany,” Mike says, surprised he’s actually found her. “What are you doing in here?”

She lets out a long breath between her lips and shrugs her shoulders.

Knowing this isn’t going to be a quick conversation, he closes the coat room door behind him and sits himself down on the ground so he’s facing her. “Brittany, why are you in here and not dancing back with everyone else?”

She’s yet to make eye contact with him. “Don’t know,” she replies, her words sounding heavy.

“You don’t know?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I don’t know, I just… I don’t like weddings.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it, Chang.”

“Brittany, I’ve known you almost as long as I’ve known how to walk, you don’t hate weddings.”

“Yeah, I do,” she argues flatly, not putting effort into her words.

“You’ve had what, two, three, cousins get married? And you’ve gone to each one. You were the flower girl in one, you loved it. You told me. You said you loved the dress you got to wear and were sad when you outgrew it.”

She hasn’t looked over at him yet, she’s looking over his shoulder, but he can see a small smile tugging at her lips, trying to become free.

“You even made me drag you along to my older sister’s wedding two years ago. You love weddings. You love the dresses. You love the people. You love the atmosphere. And you love the party and the dancing.”

“Well, now I don’t.”

“And why’s that?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Britt?”

“It’s just that… that you’re supposed to be happy at weddings.” She finally makes eye contact with him, glancing his way and then flicking her gaze away again.

“Why aren’t you happy?”

“It’s not that I’m unhappy, I think I’m just… the wrong kind of happy.”

Mike isn’t really sure what this means. “There are different kinds of happy?”

Now she really does look over at him, and she’s frowning. Not in an angry way, but a way that says she doesn’t understand how he could ask something like that. The blonde crosses her legs, readjusting the red dress, and sits up fully as she starts speaking.

“There’s lots of different kinds of happy, Mike. There’s the happy you feel when you do a good deed; holding the door for someone or offering them your seat on the bus. There’s the happy you feel when you help someone, like when you stand up for them or help them deal with something difficult and try to make them feel better.”

Her eyes are gentle but she holds his gaze as she continues, “There’s the happy you feel when you’re with someone you care about. And that comes in all kinds; when you love them, when they love you, when you goof off. All different kinds of happy.

“There’s the happy feeling you get when you accomplish something, like a grade or something like that. Or that feeling when you’re all alone but you aren’t lonely, you’re just content. Or after a long run when you just feel really good.”

Mike gets the point by now, but he doesn’t interrupt. She’s gone from monosyllabic answers to a full-on tangent now, he doesn’t want her to stop if this is going to lead to her opening up about what’s been bothering her.

“Or when a song comes on the radio and you stop what you’re doing and just smile. Or when you’re lazing in the sun. Or the happy feeling I know you get when you start dancing.”

Only when he’s sure she’s finished does Mike open his mouth to reply, “Okay, I get it. Different forms of happy. Okay, so, what happy are you right now, and why is it wrong?”

She quiets, and he watches her eyes un-focus as she thinks over this, trying to find an exact way to describe how she feels. “Right now I feel like… like in autumn, when the leaves change colour? You see all the pretty colours and everything is changing and you feel happy. It isn’t an overjoyed happy, just simple and calm. Something as simple as seeing the colours leaves you relaxed and smiling and feeling just a little bit happy.”

Mike tries not so snicker, “Is that so?” Listening to Brittany describe things is one of his favourite things, because she never takes the angle everyone else does, but she still manages to make sense. Her descriptions of things leave him in wonder sometimes.

She rolls her eyes and tosses him a light smile, “Yeah. That’s how I feel right now.”

“And why is that a bad thing?”

Brittany pouts, “Because at weddings you’re supposed to feel ecstatic. The energy is supposed to leech from one person to another. The happy you’re supposed to feel should be filled with confetti and parades and streamers. Not just small smiles. It isn’t right.”

Mike words his next question carefully, “So, why do you feel like autumn and not confetti?”

The blonde bites down on her lip, keeping herself from answering. Her eyes skit away from him, landing on one of the coats hanging right near her shoulder. She looks really small right now, like a little girl sitting on the floor of her mother’s closet, stealthily making a mess as she tries on all the clothes.

But her smile is missing.

“Brittany, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

But her careful walls have gone back up and the moment’s over; she’s shifting from thoughtful-Brittany to fake-Brittany again, like he’s seen her do many times before when she’s trying to avoid being confronted by someone. He’s always seen her submit instead of stand up and argue. It’s just the way she is.

“We should head back,” she says, getting to her feet and avoiding looking directly at him. “I promised Kurt a dance before we left; I don’t want him to get mad and use his glitter gun on me.”

She’s smiling, and it isn’t a smile Mike wants to see. But he doesn’t push it as she tugs him along after her, leading him back to the party and their waiting friends.


	2. Chapter 2

“Dude, we have to tell him to get his shit together,” Puck says, shaking his head.

“Isn’t he kind of going through a lot right now? I mean, Kurt just switched schools, and I think he must feel a little responsible.”

“Yeah, and he and Rachel are on the rockies, something big is about to give between them.”

“So,” Mike says as they walk down the hall; they’ve just left the change room from another intense football practice. “Don’t you think we should give him a break?”

Puck shakes his head, “He’s the quarterback, he needs to get it together. The championship game is coming up in a month, we have to be ready.”

Mike looks incuriously at the other boy, “Since we got Coach Beiste we haven’t lost a game.”

“Exactly! And we’re going to ruin our luck if our quarterback doesn’t get his head out of his ass. Look, I’ll talk to Hudson,” he says as they reach a fork in the hallway, “I’ll catch you later.” He nods and then heads off towards the front of the school to the parking lot.

Mike shakes his head at Puck’s forcefulness and heads to his locker. Or so he intends.

Brittany’s sitting on the bottom steps of one of the staircases, looking across the hall and out the window into the Quad. He stops walking, staying out of her immediate line of vision. She isn’t in her Cheerio’s uniform, but black sweat pants and a blue tank top. Her chin is resting in her hands, with her elbows on her knees. She isn’t frowning, but she isn’t smiling either.

 As if sensing his presence, the blonde blinks and shakes her head, looking over at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies cautiously. “What are you doing?” It’s after school on a Friday, Mike can think of no reason why Brittany would be sitting there alone.

“I wanted to use the ballet room after school,” she answers, shifting to one side of the staircase. Mike walks over and, dropping his bag with a thump, sits down next to her. “I have a competition coming up, but Jupiter’s is being renovated.”

Jupiter’s is the name of the dance studio they’ve both been attending for over a decade. They took jazz lessons together when they were little and became easy friends. By now they’ve both migrated through learning different forms of dance at the studio and don’t take the same lessons anymore, but the bond they formed when they were younger never left.

They still see each other in passing at the studio when their lessons overlap, and once a month on freestyle night. The two of them can bring down the house on those days. The other students can dance amazingly, but no one can freestyle quite like the Jellyfish and the Lobster when they’re together.

“You didn’t hear about the stink bomb?” Mike asks, referring to the reason why the dance room has been closed the past two days. Principal Figgins hadn’t been too happy, and still hadn’t “determined the culprits behind this vile act.”

She shakes her head, giggling slightly. “No. I didn’t know. And it totally ruined my plan of rehearsing when I walked in and gagged.” Her slight smile fades, “It kind of sucks though, I really wanted to practice.”

“Why don’t you just use the choir room?”

“I tried, but Mr Schue’s already left for the night.”

“So? Why didn’t you just sneak in?”

She gapes at him. “Mike!”

“What? Mr Schue wouldn’t mind. Come on.” Before Brittany can protest he’s gripping her hands and leading her down the hall towards the choir room. He can feel her hesitation, but she doesn’t pull out of his grasp as he tows her along. Yes, it’s after hours and they shouldn’t be in the room. But Mike knows he’s right, Mr Schue won’t mind.

The lights in the room are off, but the door isn’t locked, for which Mike is thankful. Of the Glee kids, he is one of the least likely to be able to break-in somewhere, that’s more Puck, or maybe Santana’s, area of expertise.

They slip inside, Mike laughing to himself at the idea of spending even more time inside the room. It’s become like a second home to them, to all the Glee kids. Somewhere they can go and be themselves. Like a sanctuary.

For him, it’s the first place besides his room and Jupiter’s that he can go and dance. Where he can dance and dance and not care what anyone says. That dancing is a girl’s thing, that it makes him gay for liking it, that he’s a wimp for not liking sports.

It’s the reason he tried out for the football team in freshman year, to keep people from finding out about his love of rhythm and movement. For a long time, Brittany was the only one at school who knew what he did in his spare time, and she kept his secret for him, knowing that some people would never understand.

And then Glee club happened, and it’s slowly brought him out of his shell. He’s still a little nervous about singing a solo for the group, but now he never holds back when he feels overcome with the need to dance.

And Brittany gets it, she’s always gotten it.

“Alright,” Mike says, opening the cabinet with the stereo system. He holds out his hand while he turns the machine on, smiling when he feels the weight of a CD case drop into his palm. After inserting the disc the room fills with music, a high and moving melody with a steady base underneath.

He turns and Brittany is standing in the middle of the floor stretching her body out, fingers twitching as she does so while the music begins to wash over her.

“When’s the competition?”

“This weekend,” she answers, glancing up nervously at him. “About an hour away, so I have to study for the English test in the car.”

“You read the book this time though, right?”

She nods, smirking.

“Group number?”

Blond hair swings in her ponytail as Brittany shakes her head, “No. Solo dance this time. We did a big group thing a few weeks ago.”

“How long have you been practising?”

“Only about a month and a half. I wasn’t going to do it at first, when my teacher asked, but… I figured it would help take my mind off… things…” she trails off, remembering to herself. Mike can see something in her eyes, something that looks like pain, but he doesn’t press for answers from her.

He also doesn’t ask why she’s practising the day before her competition if she’s been doing so for over a month. Because he already knows the answer.

Just like how this room is a sanctuary for him, it’s also a sanctuary for her. For as long as he’s known Brittany, and he’s known her a long time, one of her biggest problems has been her confidence. She knows her body and she knows how to move, but her mind sometimes thinks differently than other people’s. She was teased a lot when she was younger – they didn’t go to the same school until high school, but they’ve been friends long enough that he knows what she went through. What she still goes through.

She isn’t teased now, she isn’t blatantly made fun of, but her confidence is still constantly being worn down just by the way people treat her, despite the red and white uniform that should protect her.

Mike remembers when they first started high school, finding out the Brittany from dance class was not the same Brittany at school. At Jupiter’s, Brittany let herself be free. She spoke her mind, was always laughing and moving, and people accepted her and admired her.

At school, Brittany let herself fall into a role everyone had picked for her. She stayed quiet often, letting herself fade into Quinn’s shadow. She mimicked Quinn and Santana and the other Cheerios, pretending to act mean to other kids but never putting any heart into it. And once she was labelled a dumb blonde, she let herself play the part.

Mike has never thought Brittany was unintelligent. He knows she sees things differently, it’s something he loves about her, but he knows she isn’t stupid. Yet she lets other people think she is, pretends to be. At first, Mike didn’t understand it, but he thinks he gets it now. Being made fun of because she wasn’t as bright as everyone else when she was younger wore down her self-esteem to the point where, now, she lets people tell her she’s wrong and stupid and all kinds of other hurtful words, even when she’s right, rather than stand up for herself, because she doesn’t like causing conflicts.

Being in the choir room lets her come out of her shell a little bit, just like it does for him. Most of the Glee kids still write her off as the dumb blonde, but in here she’s able to be herself and less likely to be judged.

But that’s why it’s a day before she has to perform and she’s still practising. Because her low self-esteem has worn its way into the one thing she’s most confident about. Her dancing.

Brittany knows she can dance. Brittany knows she can command her body to do things other people can’t. But Mike can see the difference between when Brittany is dancing simply to dance, and when she’s dancing because she’s going to be judged on it. It’s why she puts so much focus into learning their routines for Glee numbers, not because it’s hard for her – it's anything but – but because she doesn’t want to be the one to let people down.

“Did you want to practice alone?” Mike asks after a moment.

Brittany ponders this for a few seconds, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “Actually…” she questions him tentatively, “Can… could I run through it with you? Maybe you can give me some feedback? Since the competition’s tomorrow?”

Mike smiles, because to him Brittany will always be the small, blonde girl with freckles and pigtails, asking if he’ll be her dance partner during one of their first classes together.

“Sure,” he says, mimicking his response from years ago.

So she dances.

Mike tries to be critical as he watches, looking for things to comment on to help her improve, since he knows that’s what she wants, but it’s hard. Watching Brittany move is an amazing thing. The passion she has, the ease with which her body goes through the motions, touches him. It’s the same as when he watches Tina dance or hears her sing; they both have a distracting beauty when it comes to things like this.

The music ends and her body stills. Her limbs are loose and her hair’s come down from its tie, and she’s breathing steadily in and out, not quite heavily and having worked up a sweat, but she’s getting there. Her face is determined, only the corners of her lips are pulled up in a ghost of a smile.

“That was really good.”

Brittany huffs, blowing her bangs out of her face. “No, it wasn’t,” she counters as the CD begins the next song. She walks over to the machine to put the first song on again, looping it so it will repeat over and over. “I was a little weak near the end.”

“You lost your centre.”

She nods, agreeing, “My ankle wobbled and it totally set me off.”

“Go through it again,” he tells her, walking closer.

She smirks at him, knowing the look in his eyes. But she complies, her body beginning its dance once again. She twirls, spins, kicks and extends over and over for him. And this time he calls out things to her, watching her move with a critical eye, the way he does when he helps teach classes to some of the younger kids at the studio. He gives her feedback, telling her things she agrees with and recognises need improvement, and things she hadn’t realised.

By the time she collapses on the floor, smiling but spent, he knows she’s going to win. Even without seeing any of the other competitors. This dance is different from what he’s seen her do before. The moves and the style are the same, but there’s something behind it that gives her just a little extra push.

“Thanks,” she pants, lying on her back on the cold tile floor.

“No problem. Here,” he produces a bottle of water from her bag. She smiles, and then grumbles as she has to sit up to drink.

Mike is breathing a little heavily too, because by the end of the session he was dancing with her. He can’t resist music, no matter how hard he tries.

“You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” she repeats, capping the water after a long pull and dropping back down again.

“You’re going to do amazing, Britt.”

She shrugs, “Maybe.”

“No, really,” Mike argues, looking down at her as he hits next to her sprawled and exhausted body. “That was one of the – _the_ best dance I think I’ve ever seen you do.”

“You’re just saying that.”

No, he isn’t. Not at all. “Really, Britt. I’ve never seen you move quite like that before. It was amazing. You’re going to kill it tomorrow.”

She ducks her chin and looks away, brushing off the compliment.

“Why’d you decide to do it?” He asks after a while.

“Hmm?”

“You said earlier that at first, you weren’t going to enter. What made you change your mind?”

The blonde blinks, staring up that the ceiling tiles. Her breathing has calmed down but she hasn’t moved from where she dropped. “I needed a distraction,” she finally offers.

“From what?” Mike asks, genuinely concerned.

There is a long and heavy sigh in response, and Mike realises there’s more going on here than he knows. Something is really bothering the girl lying next to him. He sits forward more, so his legs are crossed and he’s looking at her with his full attention. “Does this have to do with the autumn-confetti thing at the wedding?” 

“Yeah.”

“You know you can tell me, right? Whatever’s bugging you?”

“I know.”

It makes Mike frown when she doesn’t elaborate.

“Britt?” Her eyes close for a moment, and Mike realises when she opens them again that they’re moist with unshed tears. “Brittany, what’s going on?” He asks forcefully.

He wants to make her sit up and look at him, he wants her to make eye contact with him. But he holds back from tugging her up from the floor, not wanting to scare her off. Instead, he waits as she lays on the floor and stairs at the ceiling, contemplating telling him what’s bothering her.

“I needed a distraction,” she finally repeats. “I needed to just… stop thinking. About everything that was going on. I needed to just let everything fade away for a little while, and dancing helps. I stopped doing individual-competitive last year, once I was doing Cheerios and Glee; I only did the group competitive stuff. But… practising on my own, for something that was wholly and solely mine, it let me drift away for a little while.”

“Why did you need to drift?” He asks quietly.

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” Her hands fidget with the hem of her tank but Mike sits very still and listens as she continues. “I… San and I are fighting. I think.”

“You think?” He asks, the words bubbling free before he can stop them. He’s confused enough to hear the two are fighting, because that rarely happens. Brittany and Santana are always in-synch. But the fact that Brittany doesn’t even know worries him.

“I… yeah. I… I think. We… we had a bit of a fight in the parking lot last week.”

Mike wants to ask what the fight was about, but knows that if she doesn’t offer a reason, then it probably isn’t his business.

“And we kind of… we were kind of fighting before that too. Not like… not like _fighting_ fighting. But she… something happened. And it hurt. And then we kind of stopped talking for a little while. And then we were pretending everything was okay even though it wasn’t. And now she’s mad at me because I’m…”

He waits, but eventually, she changes the subject. “I’m dating Artie.”

“I know.”

She frowns up at the ceiling. “No, I…” Then she sighs and starts over, “I think I’m dating Artie for the same reason I’m doing this dance competition.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Just to… to make myself feel better because my best friend really hur– to make myself feel better and forget for a little while.” She sits up suddenly, turning so she’s facing him fully. “Is that bad?”

“What?”

“Is that mean, what I’m doing?”

“Why would it be mean?” He’s lost her thought-path by now.

“Because I’m being selfish. Because I don’t actually like… I mean, I do, but, it isn’t… Am I being mean to Artie for doing this? And to Santana?”

Mike takes a moment to really think about how to answer this for her, because her eyes are begging him to help. “I don’t think you’re being selfish for dating Artie,” he starts. “I mean, obviously you like him enough to date him, you like his company. And he clearly likes you. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, if he makes you feel better about anything that’s going on. I don’t think… I don’t think you’re using him, if that’s what you’re getting at. You just want to have a little fun, right?”

She nods, but Mike can tell by the look in her eyes that she doesn’t believe him, and that the conversation is over. Like before, he sees the shadow wash over her, watches her change into the Brittany willing to give in and submit to avoid conflict.

“I should run through it one more time,” she says, standing and moving over towards the stereo system once again.

Mike jumps to his feet to follow her and places a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You’re going to do great, Britt.”

She turns to look at him, eyes closed-off but a bit of hopefulness peeking through. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “You and Santana will makeup, you always do. And you and Artie are good together. And you will do great at this competition. Because the other competitors won’t have a passion behind their song like you do.”

“Thanks, Mike, for helping me with the dance.”

“Anytime.”

And he really does mean anytime; he’ll always try to help Brittany when her confidence wavers.

* * *

He does exactly that one week later, when, after a few days practising their routine for Sectionals – wherein he and Brittany have a dance solo – Brittany’s confidence fails her again. She lets it settle in her head that if she can’t do this perfectly that she’ll cost the team the competition.

It starts off simply. They start rehearsing every day after school – she even neglects going to Cheerio practices as often as she can. At first it’s light and happy while they’re still making up their moves. But once they have their routine and are working on perfecting it Mike sees the change happen. He watches as, day after day, Brittany’s smile starts to fade into a mix of determination and fear. She starts pushing herself, and him, harder and harder as the worry that she’s going to fail them grows inside her.

It’s a few days before Sectionals. The two of them had English second period – they were only watching the movie version of the book they had to read – so they bagged off the class and went to go practice in the always-empty Astronomy room. They had shoved some of the desks to one side of the room and set up a small CD player and gone to work, with Brittany’s frustration growing each time she mis-stepped. Second period led into lunch, wherein Brittany completely gave in, dropping heavily into one of the empty chairs.

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

She shakes her head glumly, “No. No, I can’t do this.”

Mike tries his hardest to get her out of it, the hopelessness feeling she falls into, but his words of encouragement aren’t enough. After about twenty minutes of trying he realizes that he isn’t the one she needs. He and Brittany are close friends, but she needs someone closer to cheer her up.

He knows she and Santana are on rocky grounds right now. At first glance they seem to be okay, but he can see the tension between them if he looks hard enough. But Mike knows that, if there’s anyone who can calm Brittany now, its Santana. It’s always been Santana. And even though they’re sort of fighting, he knows Santana will come if he says Brittany needs her. While Brittany’s pouting at the ground Mike quickly texts Tina to call him. Then he goes back to trying to convince the blonde that she does in fact know how to dance and won’t let them down.

While Brittany’s pouting at the ground Mike quickly texts Tina to call him. Then he goes back to trying to convince the blonde that she does in fact know how to dance and won’t let them down.

“I know you can to this, Brittany.”

“But what if I can’t, Mike? I already let the group down last year at Sectionals, when I gave Sue the set list. I… I can’t do it again. I can’t be the reason we lose. I can’t do that to everyone a second time. They don’t like me enough as it is.”

He’s in the middle of addressing this, “Brittany, everyone in Glee loves you. And I believe in you, I know you won’t let us-” when his phone rings.

She looks sadly at him as he reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. The display says Tina, just like he’d asked. But Brittany doesn’t know that. “Crap. I…”

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, getting up from the chair to restlessly pace the room.

“I’m sorry. I’ll just be a minute, okay?”

She doesn’t answer.

Mike quickly darts from the room, opening his phone and beginning to move down the hallway. “Hey.”

“Hey, what’s up?” Tina asks.

“Nothing, I just needed to get out of a conversation.”

Tina sounds a mix between amusing and unimpressed, “You had me call you just so you could stop talking with someone?”

“It’s important, okay? But I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Um, okay? Love you too.”

He hangs up, pockets the phone and sprints up the hallway. He glances in the choir room first, but doesn’t see Santana anywhere. He sees a trio of Cheerios in the hallway and asks if they’ve seen the Latina, but they shrug and say they think they saw her in the lunch room.

He checks the lunchroom but doesn’t find Santana. It’s when he’s on his way back to the Astronomy room, about to give in and text her asking here she is, that he sees Artie at the other end of the hallway. The boy wheels down the hall, slowing as he passes the room Brittany’s in. Mike watches with a growing smile as Artie seems to realize Brittany’s hiding in there and wheels himself inside.

Artie’s as good a choice as Santana for cheering up Brittany, right?


	3. Chapter 3

They’re sitting in English, listening to their teacher drone on and on about the symbolism in Macbeth. It would be interesting, except this is the third time this week they’ve heard this rant. It’s getting a little old now. Yes, they get it, everything means something. You have to read between the lines. It’s the same with any other Shakespeare play.

Mike would really rather just read the play. The analysing is okay. The over-analyzing is not. He’d even rather jump to the end where they get in groups and act out a scene. Even that would be better than this.

“...‘who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?’” Their teacher quotes. “Again, we see the reference to blood! And here, the blood doesn’t only represent the physical liquid spilling out of the man, but the guilt on the conscience, staining our characters with…”

He looks to his left. Brittany isn’t paying attention to what their teacher is saying either. She has the playbook open and she’s reading ahead, a finger tracing the words as she meets them. Her lips move silently as she says the lines to herself.

Bored out of his mind – because his father has a whole Shakespeare collection in his office that he insisted Mike read through and understand to the point of reciting important passages years ago– Mike flicks his eraser at the blonde girl.

It lands right in the middle of her open book. She blinks rapidly, a smile forming as her finger, still mapping the words, runs into it in the middle of her sentence. Then she stalls, chewing on her lip in amusement. “Well, this is a problem.”

Mike laughs, “Can’t read through erasers?”

“No, the Jedi Knights haven’t taught me that skill yet.”

“Brittany, you aren’t allowed to make Star Wars references if you haven’t seen the last movie,” he scolds. Mike is a big Star Wars buff.

“But if I don’t watch the last movie,” she says quietly back, not wanting the teacher to notice them, “Then I can pretend the story isn’t over.”

He would explain to her that there is a lot more to the story than just the six movies, but they’ve had this discussion before.

“Do you think it snows on Naboo?” Brittany asks, glancing to see what the teacher is scribbling on the chalkboard before looking back at him.

Mike thinks for only a moment before answering, “Temperate climate. They probably don’t get mass amounts of snow, but it would still be cold.”

She nods and then looks out the window of the classroom, watching the gentle snowflakes swirl in the air. Technically it has been snowing all morning, but nothing has really stuck to the ground. The snow is just blowing around in the air. “During Study Hall today I’m totally going to go and put up Christmas lights in my locker.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm hmm. Christmas spirit Mike, have some.” She produces a still-wrapped candy cane from her pencil case and hands it to him.

He snorts but takes the candy. Mike learned long ago never to question Brittany in anything she does. Even if she were to produce a plush baby dinosaur from inside her backpack or pull out a full deck of cards from her pocket, he’s learned to just accept it as part of her magic.

“Do you have all your Christmas shopping done?”

She sighs heavily, “Oh God, no.”

“Brittany?” The teacher asks, hearing her. “Did you have something to add?”

The dancer smiles sweetly, “No, I totally agree with what you said. It’s just so sad. I mean, why does everyone have to die?”

“Exactly!” The teacher exclaims, turning to write frantically on the board. “Death is the key!”

“Nice save.”

“I try.”

“So. Christmas.”

Brittany shakes her head but continues smiling. “My sister wrote her letter to Santa asking for some like, super awesome thing for her Barbie house. My dad can’t find it anywhere. So now it’s up to me to find it.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.” Her shoulders shrug helplessly as she continued, “Some Barbie RV car thing that like, turns into a hot tub or a pony or something? I don’t know. I just know I have to find it or else Kelsey will be really sad. It’s the only thing she asked for, for Christmas.”

“Isn’t she getting a little old to believe in Santa?”

Brittany shakes her head, “No, she’s only seven. Mom wants her to believe in the magic as long as possible. Which means I get to believe too, and pretend he’s real too, to keep Kelsey happy. It’s actually a lot of fun.”

Brittany is one of those people that understands Santa isn’t real, but can still believe in him. Even if she didn’t have a younger sister who still needed convincing of the man in the red suit’s existence, Mike’s sure that she would still choose to believe in him. It’s just the way she is.

Brittany believes in _Christmas_. She believes in the spirit of the season, helping people, baking cookies, singing carols. And by her loving and believing in Christmas, it means she believes in Santa, whether she knows he’s real or not.

“So Brittany, what are _you_ going to ask Santa to bring you for Christmas? Is there something special you want, something you’d love more than anything else?”

When she doesn’t answer right away he glances over at her. What Mike sees surprises him. Her lips are parted slightly and her eyes are wide and unfocused. He can only imagine what she’s thinking, but he knows it isn’t something happy. Something that looks a lot like pain is being reflected in her eyes.

Mike isn’t sure what he just said that’s upset her, but he knows he’s said something wrong. He doesn’t get the chance to back-peddle though, because the look fades and she lets it slide.

“I don’t know. A new iPod maybe; Lord Tubbington dropped mine in the sugar cookie batter last weekend. He blamed it on Charity, but I know it was him.”

* * *

Its two days before Christmas when he gets the call. It's early evening and he’s lounging on the couch, channel surfing trying to find something interesting that doesn’t involve cartoon animals singing about Christmas or decade-old holiday specials he’s seen year-after-year.

“Hey Jelly-limbs, what’s up?” he says as he answers his phone.

Brittany’s voice is frantic. “Mike, help.”

“What’s wrong?”

“A car. I need a car. Can you come get me?”

He sits up, flicking the television off. “Where are you?”

“At home, but I need to go out. Mom isn’t home yet from shopping and Dad’s taken Kelsey to some ice skating birthday party, so I don’t have a car. And it’s too cold to walk all the way to Wal-Mart from here. Please? I don’t mean to bug you like this but it… it’s really important. Please?”

It isn’t like he was doing anything important anyways. And he doesn’t like hearing the panic in her voice. “Sure, I’ll be right over. Give me a few minutes.”

True to his word, it only takes Mike a few minutes to grab a coat, his keys, and drive to Brittany’s. He’s barely pulled the car into her driveway when the front door opens and the blonde flies down the porch steps. Graceful as ever, Brittany hardly needs any effort to keep her balance and not slip on the ice as she quickly makes her way to his car.

Once she’s inside and enveloped by warmth he reverses back onto the street. “Wal-Mart, you said?”

“Yeah,” she breathes out heavily. She sits up in her seat, one leg bouncing and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Restless.

Mike assumes she forgot someone when buying gifts and needs to borrow him to chauffeur her to the store for a last-minute shopping spree. It’s happened before; every year his mother manages to forget some extended family member when making her list of things to buy.

The parking lot, as predicted two days before Christmas, is packed. Cars honking. Children screaming. People with shopping carts everywhere. It’s a madhouse. And the dwindling light makes it even worse.

He understands now why Tina prefers to do her Christmas shopping in October. She may not get all the discounts, but she can easily avoid the mayhem that is insane holiday shoppers.

Once they make it inside, after almost getting taken out by a loose shopping cart that slid across some ice, Brittany makes her way down the aisles. She’s moving fast, a determined look on her face as she dodges small children and large in-the-way displays. Mike follows, his concern growing.

She turns at the greeting card section, moving past the massive card display towards the bags and gift-wrap.

All this over gift-wrap?

She ignores the shiny and heavily decorated bags and begins scouring the rolls of wrapping paper, looking for something specific. Her blonde hair swings as her head swivels back and forth, eyes searching.

“Britt?” Mike asks cautiously.

She gives a child-like whine, “Why don’t they have any?!”

“What are you looking for?”

“Gift wrap!” She’s clearly frustrated, and kicks out at the wrack in front of her. A tube of pink wrapping paper tumbles down to the floor.

Mike bends and picks up the fallen tube, offering it to her. “What’s wrong with this?”

Brittany shakes her head sadly. Her teeth pull her bottom lip into her mouth and she looks away, embarrassed, as she answers, “It’s not the right colour.”

_Now_ it all makes sense.

“What colour do you need?”

“Green,” Brittany replies, her voice wavering. “It needs to be green. It _has_ to be green.”

Mike looks away from the dancer towards the shelves they’re standing in front of. Seeing as how it’s so close to Christmas, they’re options are limited. Everything’s been picked over, leaving only the really cheap and really tacky looking paper.

Mike isn’t sure why this is so important to Brittany, but he can’t stand the frown that is slowly beginning to etch itself onto her features as she loses hope. He takes her hand and quietly leads her away from the display. They leave the store and go back to the car.Her eyes light up again when she realises he isn’t driving her home, but to another store.

After the Wal-Mart, they try a party store and a dollar store, neither of which have any solid green wrapping paper left. The dollar store has lots of sparkly red-and-green, and green-and-blue, but no just-green. The shelves in the party store where the wrapping paper should be are bare.

By the time they get to the craft store Mike is getting worried. Brittany hasn’t spoken since the Wal-Mart, and her eyes are big and wet, trying to hold back the hopelessness she feels. He doesn’t want to try the mall, knowing going in there would be like hell on earth, but he’s running out of options and Brittany’s running out of life. Her bubbly nature is completely gone, taken over by an almost zombie-like state that gets worse each time the store they’re in doesn’t have what she’s looking for.

Mike leaves her standing in the gift-wrap aisle for a moment in favour of finding someone who works in the craft store. When he asks though, she tells him whatever’s on the shelf is all they have, it’s almost Christmas after all.

When he gets back to Brittany a single tear is rolling down her cheek.

“Come here,” Mike says, pulling her into a hug. She lets it happen, not fighting him, but not responding either, simply standing there. But after a moment her arms come up and she presses her face into his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Why are you sorry?” He asks, rubbing her back and then pulling away to look her in the eyes.

“Because you’re driving me around on a useless wild goose chase.”

“You don’t have to be sorry about that, Britt. I’m the one who’s sorry they don’t have what you want.”

“It needs to be green. It can’t be anything else but green.”

“Why don’t you use a gift bag?” He asks, nodding towards a solid green one with a reindeer on one side.

Brittany shakes her head sadly and looks down at her feet. Another tear falls.

And then another.

He leads her back to the car, where she sits in the passenger seat with her knees against her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she tries to fight back her tears.

They’re in Mike’s dad’s car, which means there is no hope for a travel box of tissues.

“Why does it have to be green?” Mike asks softly after they’ve been sitting in the car for a while. It isn’t an uncomfortable silence, but he wants to try to help.

The blonde wipes at her face with the sleeve of her coat. “It’s always been green. For Christmas, I always wrap her gifts in green.”

“Who?”

“Santana.”

“Ah.”

They sit quietly some more. Mike reaches across the console to squeeze the girl’s hand while she sniffles and tries to stop crying.

“Why did you wait until tonight to go look for some?”

She whimpers, “We had some when I checked last week. Dad must have used it all to wrap a gift for someone at work.”

“Why don’t you just tell her you looked but couldn’t find any green? Wouldn’t she understand?”

Brittany’s features break as a new wave of pain washes over her. “No, not… maybe before. Maybe before the wrong colour would have been okay one time but… but not now. Now she’ll… she’ll think I…” Fresh tears slide down her cheeks and Mike pulls her awkwardly into his arms. She clings to him, fists against the lapels of his coat and face pressed against the zipper. She’s shaking slightly and it breaks his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her hair.

“I can’t do this to her now,” Brittany forces out. Her voice is weak and muffled by his coat, but she presses on sadly. “Not after she… not after I… she’ll think I don’t care. But I do. I do care. I care so much but she won’t let herself see. If I do this, give her the wrong colour, it might break her. I don’t want it to break her. I don’t ever want to break her.”

“Brittany,” Mike says, pulling away so he can see her. “What happened between you and Santana?”

Brittany’s cheeks and nose are red, from the cold and from crying. A few tears are trapped in her eyelashes, and there are tear tracks down her cheeks. Her chest is moving erratically, rising panic combined with her tries to hold everything back.

She looks so lost and broken, sitting next to him like this.

“What happened?” Mike repeats.

Brittany sniffs, “I don’t know if we’re friends anymore.”

“You don’t… you don’t know?” He questions gently.

Brittany shifts away from him, angrily wiping at her face again to remove the tears. She sits back in her seat, somewhat turned to face him, but keeping distance between them. “We’re just pretending to be friends right now. I hate it. I miss her. But she… she doesn’t want to be friends. She doesn’t want to be with me anymore.”

Mike feels a little lost right now, because he knew the two weren’t on the best of terms lately, but he didn’t realise it was this bad. Whenever she and Santana have fought – and that doesn’t happen often – Brittany’s always come to him. She’s known Mike almost as long as she’s known Santana. She knows she can talk to him about whatever’s bothering her.

Brittany licks her lips as another tear runs down her cheek. “I love her,” she says quietly, a sad smile on her face.

Somehow, Mike knows this isn’t the same kind of love Brittany has for him. Or even the same kind of love she has for Artie.

“You’re in love with her?” he clarifies.

Brittany meekly bobs her head once, eyes fluttering closed with the weight of her secret.

“Okay.”

Her eyes open and she gives him a tear-filled smile. “Okay?”

Mike nods. He keeps his voice low and even as he speaks, trying to comfort her as best he can. “Brittany, you’re one of my best friends. This doesn’t change that.” She gives a somewhat happy sob. “Really, Britt. I’ve known you long enough to know how you work, that your capacity for love is bigger than most people’s. That you don’t see gender when you kiss someone. And I’ve seen you and Santana together; I’ve never seen two friends as close as you two are. It… it’s okay that you fell in love with her. I get it, I understand. It makes sense.”

He listens to her breath for a moment, watching as she slowly calms. “Does she know?”

The tears well up again as she agrees that yes, Santana knows, and then adds, “That’s the problem.”

“You mean… she doesn’t…feel the same?” The blonde shakes her head, a far-away look in her eyes. “No, she… she won’t let herself. She… she isn’t…”

The blonde shakes her head, a far-away look in her eyes. “No, she… she won’t let herself. She… she isn’t…”

“She isn’t like you.”

“Yeah,” Brittany replies miserably. “That’s why we’re fighting. Because it was okay when we were pretending there were no feelings. And I tried really hard, Mike. I tried so hard. But I can’t… I’m not like that. It hurts when we’re together but there’s no emotion. It hurts when she closes herself off. She’s so sweet when she forgets, but when she remembers that there can’t be feelings… it’s like her hands burn where they touch me.”

“Her hands burn where they…” Oh. He knew Brittany kissed other girls at parties sometimes, but he didn’t know she and Santana had ever… Oh.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “We’ve… yeah.”

“Do you two still…?”

“No. Not since the duets competition. I… I asked her to sing with me. She… she said no.” She pauses for a moment before the words tumble from her lips. “And it’s not that she said no, it’s the way that she… it hurt. It hurt so much because I know she feels the same way but she won’t let herself because she’s afraid of what other people will think of her and it hurts.” Her hand comes up automatically, pressing against her chest like she’s trying to ease the pain underneath.

Brittany’s voice is even, despite the tears sliding down her face. “It hurts, because I love her so much. I’d do anything for her. But she… she cares more about other people than about me.”

“Brittany, that isn’t true.”

“I get it, I get why she…” she sighs. “But it still hurts, you know? Knowing she won’t…” Her eyes close and she takes a deep breath. They open and Mike’s heart breaks at the pain he sees there. “I started dating Artie. To make myself feel better and to… to make her jealous. But it’s only made things worse.

“Now we aren’t really friends anymore. Not like we were. It’s all fake now. And I hate it. But I can’t do anything about it. Because I know if I try to talk about feelings with her she’ll just close herself off from me.

“But I still love her, Mike. I love her so much. And… and if I give her the Christmas gift in the wrong colour… what if she thinks I don’t care anymore? What if she thinks I’ve forgotten her because of Artie? I don’t want that. I can… I can pretend this doesn’t hurt as much as it does, to make it easier for her. For her, I can pretend. But if she doesn’t realise I’m pretending, and I get the wrong colour…”

He pulls her into his arms again as she cries.

When Brittany’s tears slow and finally stop they get out of the car and go back into the store. The walk back to the aisle with the gift-wrap and Brittany stands there, staring at the shelves. Mike doesn’t push her, doesn’t speak, he just waits.

After a long time, Brittany sighs and reaches forward, taking a tube of red paper with penguins on it. Her hand closes tightly around the tube, crinkling the plastic wrap it’s covered in. Her eyes close momentarily as she creates an illusion for herself. “Red is for birthdays. Maybe she’ll think I got confused about what gift this is for.”

Mike doesn’t say anything. He lets her have this moment, lets her try to rationalise something that he can visibly see is eating her up inside. Then he loops an arm over her shoulder and leads her to the checkout.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next little while, Mike tries to spend more time with Brittany, to try and keep her mind off the things going on between her and Santana. He convinces Brittany to join him and Tina when they go ice skating over the winter break; Tina’s never been before. But between the two of them, it doesn’t take long for Tina to pick it up; she has a natural grace on her own. With Mike’s arm steady around her and Brittany joyfully cheering her on while skating backwards ahead of them to watch, Tina learns to ice skate.

He also invites her over for dinner the weekend before school starts back up, while Tina is away visiting family. And he helps her give one of her cats a bath after it gets itself covered in icing from the New Year’s cupcakes Brittany’s mother made.

He’s trying. He’s trying to keep her preoccupied. And by the sad-yet-thankful smiles she gives him, he knows she appreciates it.

Mike hadn’t really thought to look at the other side of the coin, however, he hadn’t thought to look and see if Santana was doing okay during all of this. He’s close with Brittany, not with Santana. Not really. They’re in the same social circle of cheerleading and football, they’re in Glee together, and they’ve hung out often enough together with Brittany, but he and Santana don’t have a close friendship.

But he does start watching Santana. Because he sees that Tina is.

He notices his girlfriend watching Santana, offering her smiles, sitting near her in Glee. He doesn’t know how much Tina knows, and it isn’t his business to tell her, but it makes him smile that she’s trying too.

When classes start up again Brittany continues hiding what she’s going through from everyone around her. Lazy smiles, mindless dancing, strange phrases that others don’t understand. She wears a mask, pushing her pain down. Over the winter break, when they hung out, she let her walls down more, let him see the pain she’s in, but now that school’s started up she’s working at pushing away all the hurt she has inside.

If Brittany wears a mask at school, however, Santana wears a whole damn costume. Her actions and expressions are flawless and perfect, if not a little crueller lately. There’s never any indication that Santana is being broken down the same way Brittany is. He can see Brittany’s pain, even when she tries to hide it, because he knows her. But with Santana, everything is hidden away behind the thick, thick wall she creates around herself. If she spends her nights crying the way he knows Brittany does, it’s all pushed down come morning, forgotten and hidden away while she’s at school.

Mike doesn’t think Tina and Santana are particularly close friends, but when the new semester starts and Tina actually says the words, “keep an eye on Santana for me” when she finds out she won’t be sharing a class with the other girl but he will, Mike realizes that Tina must know that something is going on. He doesn’t know if Santana’s confided in his girlfriend, but Tina is clearly aware of the struggle Santana is going through, however hard she tries to hide it.

When he gets a call the night before the championship football game, and Tina just cries on the other end of the phone, he knows Santana must have told her something. Because there is no way she’d be calling him in the middle of the night, letting out so much pain, if she didn’t know at least part of the story.

He can’t ask though. He knows Brittany’s side, not Santana’s. It wouldn’t be fair of him to ask Tina for Santana’s side of things. Because just like Brittany’s story isn’t his to tell, Santana’s story isn’t Tina’s to tell. So he comforts his girlfriend as best he can, and resolves that if Tina is watching out for Santana, and he is watching out for Brittany, then maybe things will be okay for a little while.

* * *

The game ended an hour ago. A few of them stayed late to help clean up – they made a bit of a mess during the half-time show, they got zombie parts everywhere. Brittany had started singing under her breath, twirling around in her zombie dress and big hair, while picking up false teeth and chunks of fake skin. Mike had been over on the sidelines, helping move the sound equipment back inside.

As people trickled away, deciding they’d helped clean up enough, they left Brittany alone to dance on the field to music only playing in her head.

Tina left an hour ago with Mercedes, agreeing to help each other get out of their costumes and remove the makeup and product covering them. Puck and Artie left too, some of the last football players to clear out.

When Mike is one of the last people walking along the edge of the field, he goes to join her.

Brittany smiles, still twirling, and starts to sing louder. Mike laughs as she beckons him to join her, the lyrics of a different song than the mash-up they performed carrying out over the deserted field.

His parents are probably wondering when he’s going to get home – they came to watch the game but he made them leave after it ended, not knowing how long he’d be helping clean up. Brittany’s parents weren’t there, so he’s not sure if she’s wanted home sometime soon. But Mike decides a little dancing never hurt anyone.

“You know that’s a different Michael song, right?”

She nods, skipping past him. Then she turns and after only a few steps he’s moving in synch with her, knowing exactly what she’s doing. They’re going through their Sectionals number while she sings out the lyrics to Billie Jean.

It’s a little awkward, since the pacing is all wrong. But they make it work. Laughing and smiling and going insane. She doesn’t know all the words to the song, so she fills in random ones as she goes. They break from the Valerie number and suddenly its freestyle night at Jupiter’s and they’ve lost all sense of time.

Mike starts singing too, and Billie Jean becomes Living La Vida Loca that leads way to a rap version of My Heart Will Go On. They proceed to further make fools of themselves as they belt out the words to Bohemian Rhapsody to the open night, until they’re both laughing too hard to do anything more than collapse on the grass and hold their stomachs.

The laughter dies down, and Mike knows its way past curfew by this point, but he doesn’t move. They lapse into a comfortable silence, just watching the stars.

Brittany’s arm rises to trace the lights in the sky, “That looks like a donkey with a top hat.”

Mike squints, trying to see what she sees. “All I see is a turtle with a flower on its shell.”

“Where?”

“There,” he points up at the sky and then shakes his head at himself, because how is she supposed to know where he’s pointing?

“I don’t see it.”

“Um, see those two really bright ones? And the third one that makes a triangle? That’s-”

“It’s head!” She cuts him off, seeing the same image he’s seeing.

“I can’t see your donkey though.”

“Right where that… wait… wait,” she pauses. Mike raises up on his elbows to look at her, confused. “There!” she says loudly. Mike’s eyes fly to the night sky. “Right where that plane is! That’s its eye. See?”

Mike stares for a long moment, connecting the stars until an image forms. “I guess?”

“You don’t see it?” He can hear her mock pout.

“It looks more like a horse to me.”

“A horse? Why would a horse be wearing a top hat?”

“Why would a donkey?” These are the important questions in life.

“Why not?” Brittany replies. “Donkeys can be sophisticated. More than horses anyway.”

“True,” Mike agrees. “A donkey would look better with a monocle than a horse.”

He feels the air shift between them as silence takes over for a moment. Brittany is thinking, he can see it. He can see the thoughts moving across her face.

“Penny?” He asks.

“No, I’m Brittany.”

“Funny. Penny for your thoughts?”

He’s still leaning up on his elbows, looking over at her. The laughter is gone from her eyes, and her arms, once spread out wide when she dropped to the ground, are hugging close to her body, protecting herself from something only she can feel.

“San and I used to have sleepovers in her backyard and watch the stars,” she says quietly.

Mike frowns, but isn’t quite sure what to say. “You okay?”

All he gets in response is a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he offers after a long pause. “I’m sorry things are so hard for you right now. I’m sorry I can’t make them go back to the way they were, when things were easier for you.”

“They were never easier,” Brittany says, a twinge of bitterness on her tongue.

Mike sits up fully now but Brittany remains on the grass. “What do you mean?”

“Between Santana and I? Things haven’t been easy for a long time.”

“I thought you two were doing okay before. Like, last year? I thought what’s going on now was recent.”

“It is.” Her eyes squeeze shut a moment. When they open he can’t read the expression on her face. “But before this… things weren’t easy. They were just… the same.”

“What do you mean?”

She looks up at the stars as she answers, “You know those carousel horses, the ones they have at fairs and theme parks?"

"Yeah?"

She continues, eyes moving as she spots more shapes in the sky, "Where little kids can sit and ride on the painted horses?  And the horses just have to go around and around, over and over again, because they don't know how to do anything else? They get stuck in a rut, digging a hole as they do the same things over and over because their path is a circle and it’s too hard to try and make the ride go straight instead?

“That’s like me and Santana. That's what we were; those carousel horses. We'd go around and around over the same pattern. Sleep together, kiss and touch and feel, but never with feelings shared. We'd be happy and together and under an illusion, and then we'd have to pretend that it wasn’t real. She'd kiss me, I'd kiss back, but only when we were alone. When we were in public everything would just burn because we'd have to pretend it wasn't there. She'd pretend I wasn't there. Kiss and burn, kiss and burn, round and round. 

"But then we fell off the carousel. The screws came loose and our horses fell off the ride. We can't just walk away from the ride to go find another one instead, but we don't really know how to get back on either. We can't fully walk away from each other, but we don't know how to get back to where we were before either."


	5. Chapter 5

“Come on, Mike.”

“I’m not saying I don’t want to go.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

Tina smirks up at him as they walk down the hall together, “You kind of are.”

“Look, I do want to go visit Kurt, it’s just…”

“Yeah?” she prompts when he doesn’t elaborate.

Mike sighs; he may as well get it over with. “Do we have to go see him at his new school? Can’t we meet up at the Lima Bean or something?”

Tina stops, leaning on the lockers outside the choir room. “Why?” she asks.

Running a hand through his hair, Mike sighs, “The uniforms creep me out, okay?”

Tina raises her eyebrows in amusement at him, “Really, Mike? Really?”

“What? They all look so perfect. With their perfectly straight jackets and perfectly hanging ties and their perfectly perfect hair. It’s weird. Normal people aren’t like that. Their uniforms are creepy.”

“You wear a uniform for football,” she counters easily.

“Yeah, but my uniform doesn’t make me look like I’m from a planet of robots.”

He watches as one of her hands raises to press fingertips against her lips, trying to hold back a laugh. It doesn’t work though, and her giggles fill the air around him.

“What? Just ask Kurt if we can meet him and his boyfriend-”

“They aren’t dating.”

“His secret boyfriend-”

“No, I mean Kurt only has a crush on him, they aren’t dating.”

“His _friend_ at the Lima Bean sometime after school this week, see how he’s adjusting to life with the robot singers.”

Tina just laughs, pushing up from against the lockers and leading him into the choir room.

Yes, Mike was saying it to make her laugh, because her laugh is musical and makes his heart swell when he hears it. But he was also telling the truth. The Dalton uniforms freak him out. It’s like the school isn’t actually a school, but a secret factory where they manufacture robot children that will-

He needs to stop playing so many video games.

He and Tina are the last ones in the room and take a seat in the back row. Quinn and Sam are cuddled up together and Puck is sitting suspiciously close to Lauren. Mercedes looks bored, and is staring up at the ceiling rolling her eyes to herself. Rachel and Finn are clearly _not_ sitting together.

Artie and Brittany are sitting next to each other in the front row, Artie looking relatively happy and Brittany sporting a massive smile. She leans over and, giggling, whispers something in his ear, a hand on his leg to balance herself.

Mike frowns when he sees Santana visibly stiffen where she sits stiffly beside Brittany. She looks straight ahead, pretending what’s going on right next to her isn’t bothering her.

As Mr Schue walks over to the whiteboard, marker in hand, Mike thinks about how awkward the whole situation in the front row is. Brittany is clearly smothering Artie in love, trying to distract herself from the distant and tense girl next to her. If she can’t get affection from Santana, she’s going to show Santana she can get it from someone else.

Mike isn’t sure how great a tactic this is, because instead of making Santana jealous, it only looks like she’s making the Latina more depressed and scared.

“Alright guys, I have one word for you,” Mr Schue says, getting their attention as he writes on the board. Mike is surprised; usually, Mr Schue’s whiteboard scribbles are crooked, but this one looks pretty straight for once. “Brittany?” Mr Schue asks when he sees her hand in the air.

“Is it love?” She giggles, reading the word written on the board. Sharing a love-struck look with Artie that makes even Mike a little uncomfortable, she continues, cheering, “I’m totally gonna graduate now!”

He loves Brittany, and is glad she’s happy, but he never pictured her happiness like this; fawning over a boy she likes while forcibly ignoring the girl sitting next to her that she loves.

Initially, Mike is happy hearing that their assignment of the week is to perform love songs. His mind already begins to wander as he slings an arm over his girlfriend’s chair, thinking up love songs with great beats that he could dance to, to show Tina how much he cares about her.

Some of the group seems to be in the same boat. Quinn smiles happily before beginning to look terrified. Brittany practically throws herself on Artie. Puck gives a horribly unsubtle look at Lauren.

And then Mike realises just how much of an awkward situation Mr Schue’s put everyone else in the room in. He can’t exactly assign them to sing love songs if they aren’t all coupled up. Even then, that’s a bit of a pressure on the relationship not everyone would be comfortable with.

It seems like the moment Mike realises this is the tipping point for the tension slowly bubbling up in the room. Finn is suddenly in the middle of explaining his plan for a kissing booth – not a good plan dude. Mike hates to think it, but Finn is only kind of making himself look like an ass.

Mercedes rounds on him, saying exactly what Mike is trying not to think. Santana joins in, cutting Finn down immediately.

And then things get bad.

Mike watches, unsure what to do, as the rest of the room gangs up on Santana. It isn’t really his place to defend her, they aren’t that close, but seeing Brittany almost ignoring what is going on instead of standing up for her friend hurts a little. She looks straight ahead, trying to keep her expression blanks as the others cut into the girl next to her.

Santana visibly shrinks with the room’s words directed at her. Her arms cross over her chest and her shoulder’s hunch. She stops talking back, taking their words as they slice into her skin like knives.

When Rachel takes it too far the room falls into silence. Santana sits perfectly still for a moment, thickening her walls to keep them from knowing they’ve hurt her. Then she mumbles something, grabs her bag, and quietly leaves. Her back stays to everyone as she exits, refusing to let them see her pain.

The choir room stays uncomfortably silent in the seconds that follow.

“Rachel,” Mr Schue sighs.

Rachel, for her part, looks surprised the words actually left her mouth and not someone else’s, “I… I didn’t mean…”

“I think you kind of did though,” Tina says. She shifts in her chair, eyes glued to the door Santana just left through. Mike can tell she wants to go after her, but isn’t sure if she should or not.

“Should someone go see if she’s okay?” Mercedes finally asks.

Quinn looks away from the group. Tina fidgets in her seat. Rachel’s face still looks shocked.

Brittany’s sitting very still in her seat, staring towards the piano. If Tina looks worried, Brittany looks torn. She looks like she isn’t sure she should go after Santana, and is probably wondering if doing so would only make things worse. The two are no better than they were last week.

But if Santana needs anyone’s comfort right now, it’s Brittany’s. She needs to know her friend still cares about her.

Mike coughs, and it sounds a lot like the word jellyfish.

Puck turns to look questioningly over his shoulder at Mike. Mike ignores it; he’s watching Brittany.

Brittany sighs, ducks her head, and then gets to her feet to follow Santana.

* * *

“I’m just saying, maybe tone it down a bit?”

“Tone what down?” Brittany asks, her breathing shallow.

“You and Artie?” Mike answers, stepping forward to volley the ball coming towards him. It goes up, the girl next to him spikes it, and it pounds to the floor in between two people on the other side of the net so fast neither of them has time to move. Point for Mike’s team.

“Me and Artie what?” Brittany asks as the teacher blows the whistle, indicating their team needs to rotate. Mike moves right, Brittany moves back. “What’s wrong with me and Artie?” She asks as the ball is tossed towards her for her serve. She rolls her shoulders as she bounces the ball up and down a few times before tossing it in the air and striking it.

It sails clear over the net; Brittany’s always been good at sports. Mike tries not to smile as Tina, on the other team, rushes forward to bump the ball. It’s passed around their side a few times before ends up back on Mike and Brittany’s side.

“Out!” Brittany calls, halting the movement of everyone on their side as, sure enough, the ball lands outside the court lines.

“I just noticed,” Mike continues once the ball is in motion again and it sails over the net. He faces forward and keeps an eye on the ball but focuses his attention on the girl behind him. “You and Artie have been acting really… coupley lately.”He can’t see her, but Mike can easily picture the expression on her face as Brittany deadpans, “We are a couple.”

“Yeah,” Mike continues as he rushes forward and bumps the ball, “But lately you two seem almost like you’ve been over-doing it.” He turns to look at her for a moment, “You were all over him in Glee yesterday.”

“It’s Va-” she pauses as the ball comes her way. Once it’s gone she continues, “It’s Valentine’s, Mike. You and Tina are being all lovey-dovey too.”

Someone on their side sends the ball way out of bounds. While the other team runs after it and then shuffles their positions on the court, Mike says quietly, “Yeah, but neither Tina nor I are hung up on someone else at the same time.”

This causes Brittany to stay quiet for the rest of their game.

The gym teacher blows the whistle when their time is up and Mike and Brittany’s team have won. She waves her arms around, indicating the two sets of six can take a break on the bench while the other half of the class sets up for a game.

They have to stay on their sides, so Mike can’t go sit next to Tina. Which works out, because he still wants to talk to Brittany. He sees her and another girl leave the gym to get a drink from the fountain in the hallway. Mike follows, waiting for their classmate to finish and leave before he continues talking to the blonde.

“I’m just saying, Britt. Everything’s probably really hard for Santana right now.”

“And it isn’t hard for me?” she asks politely before lowering her head and taking a drink. Her hair is pulled back, but one of her hands automatically reaches back to hold it in place, making sure it doesn’t swing in front of her face and get wet in the spray of water.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t hard for you,” Mike continues, leaning casually against the wall. “All I said was that it’s probably hard for her right now.”

“You’re talking about Glee yesterday.” Brittany stands, wiping the excess water from her lip as Mike takes his turn.

“Among other things,” he says when he finishes.

“I went and played the best friend, didn’t I?”

“You sound bitter.”

“I’m not bitter, I just…” she sighs heavily, sliding down to sit against the wall with her long legs stretched out in front of her. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know where we are anymore.”

“Explain,” he says, glancing in the window into the gym and, seeing that the other sets of six have hardly scored any points yet and will be there for a while, slides down next to her.

“Since we quit Cheerios, I mean, I see her less now that we don’t have that. We don’t hang out anymore. I see her in Glee and I see her in the one class we have together, where we… things are different now. We aren’t…” she pauses, sorting out her thoughts. “We aren’t pretending we hate each other. Things are less forced. I mean, I can say something and she’ll give a little smile and then she’ll quickly turn back to the teacher. And we don’t ignore each other now, we aren’t avoiding going to our lockers so we don’t run into each other. Little things like that.”

Mike mulls this over for a little bit, “Is that good or bad?”

“I… I dunno. It feels like… like we’re both standing on different escalators. Before, they were moving in opposite directions, so we were moving away. Now they’re both moving in the same direction, but we’re still far away from each other, we’re still separated by that barrier. We aren’t on the same escalator anymore. I miss that. I miss her.”

“So you’re compensating with Artie.”

She stays quiet for a long time before answering, “I love Artie.”

Mike opens his mouth to respond but Brittany rushes forward, “I still love Santana, more than anyone else I’ve ever known… but I kind of fell in love with Artie too. It’s different. It’s not at all like me and San… but I still care about him. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to fall in love with him. But I have. And sometimes it just feels like… like Artie cares about me.”

He frowns. “And Santana doesn’t?”

“She does. But she’s afraid to let other people know she does. Artie isn’t like that. Artie… Artie wants everyone to know I’m his girlfriend. And…” her voice quiets, “I kind of like that. I like that he’s not… ashamed of us being together. Artie cares about me and sometimes it seems like it would be easier to just stay with him than try and sort things out with San.”

Mike isn’t sure how to respond to this, so silence stretches between them for a long moment. “We should head back in,” Mike says eventually, standing and then offering her his hand to pull her to her feet.

They slip back inside the gym and sit down on the bench. The two teams playing now are much louder than his and Tina’s were, so there’s lots of shouting and yelling going on. It’s loud enough that he and Brittany can keep talking without anyone else overhearing.

“Do you want to sort things out with Santana?”

Brittany’s sitting cross-legged on the bench, pulling at her shoe-laces. “Yes. But… but she won’t talk about it. I’ve tried. She’s mad because I’m with Artie. And I’m mad because…”

“Because she hurt you.”

Brittany nods. “I mean… I get why she… I get it. I understand why she’s afraid. But she refuses to talk about it so I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. So yeah, me and Artie have been overly coupley lately,” the words come out snappish, so she pauses to fix her tone. “But being with Artie makes me feel good. And I know she’s hurting… but I’m hurting too. And if she isn’t going to… why aren’t I allowed to have something small that makes me feel good?”

“I never said that,” Mike says gently.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, about San and I. We’re stuck in this void. I want her. I do, I want her to know how much I love her. But no matter what I do I scare her away, like I’m a cat and she’s a mouse. She was my little mouse. And Artie… Artie’s like a snake. We don’t really go together, but we do in a way. He doesn’t get scared like San does. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Alright,” the teacher yells, “Second set on the benches, first set on the court again!”

The conversation ends when Brittany purposely puts herself in a spot on the opposite side of their court from Mike, so even though they’re on the same team, he’d have to talk through everyone else to reach her.

He’s not really sure where that last conversation leaves them, but it’s left behind a bitter taste in his mouth. He can’t tell if Brittany is really hurting over Santana, or trying to move on.

He also isn’t sure which of those he’d rather it be.


	6. Chapter 6

Mike has himself backed into a corner, literally.

One of the new girls at the studio, Stella, is obviously flirting with him despite the fact that he’s told her multiple times now that he has a girlfriend. Stella, with her dark skin, flowing hair and scary, heavily makeup-ed eyes, who does not take no for an answer.

When he got to Jupiter’s this evening Stella’s head swivelled around like something out of a horror movie, eyes wide and lips curling into a predatory look. Mike dropped his bag with the others by the door and tried to go and talk to some of the kids standing by the sound equipment, but Stella pounced.

She had advanced on him before he had taken more than two steps. He tried skirting past her, but she blocked his path, trying for sexy as she placed a palm against the wall and leaned into him.

Currently, he’s standing pinned against the wall of the studio, having tried unsuccessfully to back away from her. The girl is laughing flirtily at something she said to him, with one long, manicured fingernail reaching to trace the centre of his chest.

Mike gulps, because he really isn’t good in situations like these.

Thankfully, he’s saved. By an angel in tights and a tie-dye tank.

“Mike!” Brittany laughs, skipping over to him and ignoring Stella completely.

“Uh, hey Britt.”

Mike swears Stella actually growls at the blonde.

“Mike, what would Tina think if she saw you in that?” Brittany scolds playfully, nodding towards the sweats he wears every time he’s at Jupiter’s.

“Um.”

“Mike,” Brittany giggles, winking at him, “Tina’s a fashion girl. She’d kill you if she saw you in that.” She looks over at Stella, finally addressing her, “You’ve met his girlfriend, Tina, right?”

Stella’s eyes narrow.

Brittany goes on, undeterred. “They’re so cute together. They’ve been going out for _ages_ now. Last week they even sang love songs to each other. It was so adorable!”

Stella scoffs and stalks off.

“Thanks,” Mike sighs, relaxing and pulling away from the wall behind him a little.

Brittany smiles, “No problem. I love messing with people.” She smiles wickedly, “Just this week I convinced Rachel-”

She’s cut off when the speakers begin pulsating with life, blaring a heavily-beated Beyoncé song into the room.

This is kind of how freestyle nights at Jupiter’s work. The music starts and everybody goes insane.

Everyone in the room follows the routine they’ve been doing for years now. They all press loosely against the sides of the room, leaning against walls and mirrors and stacks of exercise mats and against other people. They’re in the main room, the biggest one. It holds them all; sometimes it’s pretty tightly packed, but that makes it all the more fun. Tonight there’s only about fifteen of them in total. A few of the younger kids are sitting right on the floor or crowding in the doorframe, buzzing with excitement.

They’re all buzzing with excitement, really.

Cassandra, the owner of the studio, is sitting on a bean bag chair – the only chair in the room – near the sound system. She loves freestyle night as much as her students.

She smiles widely at them and points to a little brunette girl in pigtails sitting on the floor. The girl squeals and ducks into her friend’s shoulder. The friend laughs and leans back, shoving the girl away from her and towards the centre of the room.

That’s the only rule of freestyle night – you get pointed at, you have to go dance.

The girl is blushing red now but staggers to her feet and moves to the centre of the room. She’s new, Mike doesn’t recognise her, and figures she’s in one of the beginner classes. The little girl does some strange, stiff dance in the centre of the floor for a moment before running out of the circle and pointing at her friend. Mike knows that by the end of the night she won’t be so shy and will be begging to be in the centre again.

The friend – possibly her sister, they look alike – grins evilly before somersaulting into the middle of the room and leaping to her feet, dancing and spinning around like a mad-woman.

This carries on for a while, kids taking individual turns in the centre of the room to just dance while the music stays steady and strong, changing from one song to the next but never stopping, the songs are all blurred and flow together. Everyone on the sidelines cheers and laughs as each new person takes a turn.

For a good long while it’s only the smaller kids and some of the younger teens, none of the older kids get picked to go dance. And you aren’t allowed to go dance unless you get picked. You don’t have to leave circle once you pick someone, but you can’t enter the centre without being picked.

Mike’s foot is tapping, letting the music sweep over him as he watches one of the few boys in the room moonwalk to a Flo Rider mash-up. It’s an amusing sight.

Brittany is practically vibrating next to him she’s so excited. He watches her face fall slightly each time she isn’t picked, but it doesn’t last long as she continues to dance on the spot and laugh along with everyone else.

It’s fated that, as soon as a Ke$ha song starts, Brittany gets picked. Mike knows Brittany has a secret obsession with the singer. He’s counting down the days until they perform something by her in Glee due to Brittany’s influence.

The blonde lets a happy sound burst from inside her when she realises she’s been picked to go dance, and, taking a few running steps, hand spring’s into the centre of the room. Then she’s up and moving and flailing her body to the beat of the music in a way that only she can manage. She probably doesn’t even realise she’s singing along she’s so engrossed in the music.

This is probably what Brittany looks like, alone in her room, after a long day. Insane dancing and letting go.

The songs changes and she drags him into the centre of the dance floor to join him. The song is more techno in beat so she switches her style to match his until they are moving in synch as they fly all over the floor. She lets Mike lead, mimicking him as he goes through all his favourite moves.

Eventually, they’re kicked out of the centre of the room and some of the other kids take over. The individual freestyle dancing is over though as, while the younger kids start to leave, the older kids turn it into a competition, dancing off with each other.

Brittany kicks Stella’s ass.

They’re all going insane to a Pink song when Brittany, eyes closed and in her own little world of motion, nearly trips over an escaping younger kid. Her body twists to one side to avoid the little girl, and she ends up crashing into Mike. She laughs as she sags against him, his arms lifting to support her. They’ve been dancing for God knows how long know. Mike hasn’t actually taken a break, but he’s slowed down a few times to catch his breath. Brittany hasn’t slowed her pace since she started, pushing herself faster and harder as time goes on. She has to be exhausted by now.

Her hands squeeze tightly where they hold his forearms as the song changes to an Amy Winehouse remix. Mike’s body stills as he watches her. Brittany’s face pales, but stays void of emotion.

Mike knows Santana loves Amy as much as Brittany loves Ke$ha, maybe more so.

The blonde twists violently away from him, throwing herself into the music and ignoring his questioning gaze. She becomes a different person, grinding and pumping to the beat of the song with a desperate energy Mike can’t ignore.

He reaches out to her but she pulls away, a harsh look of determination on her face that screams at him to let her be.

He watches, his body swaying slightly, unable to truly stop moving. Brittany’s face is a hard mask as she tries to ignore the song and what it makes her think of, forcing herself to dance harder and harder. But by the time the chorus plays a second time her step falters. Her legs shake as she forces herself to keep moving.

Mike can see the tears threatening to fall.

He steps forward and takes her arm, tugging her from the centre of the crowded dance floor. She pulls back harshly, refusing to break the illusion she’s created around her. “No!” She yanks her arm away but loses her balance, falling into a tiny but mighty teenager dancing behind her. The other girl squeals as her focus is interrupted when Brittany impacts her.

The two tangle for a moment before righting themselves. The other girl moves away, letting herself get sucked back into the music immediately. Brittany sways for a moment, looking confused and broken.

Mike tries again, knowing Brittany needs to stop. He takes her hand and tugs her towards the door a second time.

“Mike, please, just let it go,” she insists loudly, trying to be heard over the music and planting her feet firmly. Her face is a hard, terrible mask he’s never seen her wear before as she stands before him, breathing heavy and ignoring the moisture in her eyes. “I’m _fine_.”

“Just take a break, Britt.”

“No!” she snarls again, trying to back away.

But Mike holds strong to her hand, “Brittany, you can’t just dance your problems away.”

“Yes, I can!” she spits.

The song has changed by this point but it doesn’t matter, he can see what she’s doing now. She isn’t dancing anymore, she’s drowning. She’s drowning her problems into the music that surrounds her in hopes it will let her escape. She’s exhausting her body in favour of letting her mind think about the pain she’s in.

“Mike, just leave me alone. I’m fine.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls harshly on her arm, bringing her closer to him. Then he grips her free arm and drags her from the room. She fights, hard. She shakes and thrashes and digs her nails into his skin but he keeps moving the broken blonde until they’re in the parking lot of the strip mall Jupiter’s is located in.

The minute the cool air hits them she violently pulls away from him, as if his skin were hot lava against her own.

“What’s your problem?” she rounds on him, an anger he doesn’t see often flowing through her. She’s still yelling, even though there’s no longer any more music she needs to be louder than for him to hear. “Do you have to control my every move? I can’t just have a night to myself where I dance with my friends? You have to control that?” Her eyes are dark and fiery, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Brittany-”

“No,” she yells. The sweet, happy girl he knows gone in favour of a fierce, angry woman. “No, you don’t get a say in what I do, Mike. It’s my life. Get out!”

He knows she needs this, whether she realises it or not. She needs to let everything out, and he’d rather it be verbal and to someone who won’t take it personally than exhausting herself to the point of collapse as she tries to forget her pain.

He takes a step forward, hands held out openly in front of him. “Britt-”

“Stop treating me like something’s wrong, like I’m a child that needs to be minded!” She screams, “I’m fine!”

“Brittany, you aren’t fine.”

“Yes. I. Am!” She backs away from him, stepping off the curb and down into the empty handicapped parking spot. “Nothing’s wrong! I have friends, I have school, I’m free of Cheerios, I have Glee and dance and I have a boyfriend that loves me and I love him so just _leave me alone._ ”

She’s seething, her words digging into him in a way he knows she doesn’t mean. Her eyes are wide and her face is flushed with her anger. In the twilight, he can see a few tears have spilled free. She’s sweaty and tired and a mess but she needs to let it out.

“Brittany, you’re hurting yourself. You can’t just dance away your problems.”

“I don’t have any problems!”

“Are you lying to me, or to yourself?”

She takes another tense step away from him, eyes dark and narrowed. Her voice feels like cold steel impacting him as she speaks lowly, “I’m fine. I’m dealing with things, and I’m fine. And it sure as hell isn’t your business, Mike.”

“Brittany, I just don’t like seeing you hurt like this.”

_“I’m not hurting!”_ she screeches, words ripping into the stillness around them. But her screech turns into a sob and she crumbles.

Mike is there in seconds, holding her as they both sink to the ground. Brittany cries, beating her fists against his chest as her pain washes over her in one huge tidal wave of emotion. Her walls crash down and she lets it all out, beating against Mike as if he were the physical embodiment of her problems.

He holds her close, rocking and trying to sooth her while she cries. She’s one of his oldest friends, and it hurts seeing her like this, but he doesn’t know what else to do but hold her.

They sit in the parking lot for a long time. The cool March air seeping into Mike’s bones, feeling like tiny ants crawling up his spine and limbs. When he feels Brittany shiver he pulls her closer. “It’s okay, Britt. I’ve got you.”

“I hate this,” she whimpers into his embrace. “I hate what we’ve become. I hate _her_. I hate her I hate her I hate her,” she chants, but it begins to sound more like ‘I love her’ the longer Brittany goes on.

Mike runs a hand through her hair, still loosely held up by her hair-tie, and just listens.

“She’s dating Sam,” the blonde whispers, the whimpered pain in her words expressing just how broken she is. “Why is she dating Sam?”

“Why are you dating Artie?” Mike asks, flinching at how insensitive that sounds.

She shakes her head as she says through her tears, “It isn’t the same.”

“Why isn’t it the same?” Mike knows he should just let this go, but someone else is controlling his mouth at this point.

“I started dating Artie to make myself feel better and to make her a little jealous. She’s… she’s dating Sam just to hurt me. Every time she kisses him it rips me apart inside, because I want that but she won’t let me. Why won’t she let me?”

“I don’t know, Brittany. I don’t know.”


	7. Chapter 7

He’s lying face down on the pillow, eyes closed, hoping that maybe if he’s still long enough his head will stop pounding.

All that proceeds to do is make him dizzy.

He rolls over onto his side, coming face to face with his younger sister. Her curious eyes peer at him from the edge of the bed.

“What?” Mike croaks, wincing at how loud his voice sounds.

Never. Drinking. Again.

She begins, “It’s Sa-”

“Not so loud,” Mike whispers.

“It’s Saturday,” his sister tries again, her voice much quieter. “Mommy wants to know why you haven’t gone for your run yet. It’s after breakfast time.”

“Go away,” Mike mutters, rolling over to face the other side.

She skips like an ever-loving fairy over to the other side of the bed to stare at him, her eyes dark and magnified by her thick glasses. Mike has the good vision in the family. Both she and his older sister have terrible vision.

“Mommy wants to know if you’re going for your run or not,” his sister starts up again, sounding like a sugar-high chipmunk that got a hold of a megaphone. “She wants to go out shopping for Daddy’s birthday gift but I can’t stay home alone so-”

“Julie,” Mike whispers harshly, “Shut up. Get out.”

Mike regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Julie takes a deep breath, opens her mouth, and screams, “Mommy! Mike said the s-h-u-t-u-p word!”

His sister screams and screams until his mother comes running into the room, her footsteps like individual gunshots on the hardwood floor. Mike groans and wonders if it is possible to die from sound overload. His fingers slowly and gently lift to probe his ears, checking for blood. Nothing. Which is unfortunate, he’d much rather die.

He closes his eyes, blocking out his mother scolding his sister for not using her inside voice as best he can.

That only lasts a few moments, however, when his mother throws up his blinds, bathing the room in sunlight so bright it burns the inside of his eyelids, making him feel like he’s pressing his eyes against the stove-top elements they hurt so much.

“Michael, what’s wrong?” His mother asks once his sister has been shooed from the room.

“Dying,” he moans, pressing his face into the mattress and lifting a pillow over his head. He just wants to die.

“Don’t be funny, Michael. What’s wrong?”

“Stomach flu,” Mike answers, wishing she’d go away now and leave him to die in peace. His parents don’t know about Rachel’s party last night – they think he was out with Tina – and he has no intention of telling them. Way. Too. Much. Alcohol. “Caught a bug at dinner with Tina or something.”

“I’ll go make you some tea then, you stay in bed. I’ll keep Julie out of your room.”

As soon as his bedroom door closes Mike moans aloud. Tea.

His mother is making him tea.

Traditional, Chinese, feel better tea.

He can only imagine what will be in it.

Turkey beaks or badger feet or something equally disturbing. His stomach is already riding a damn rollercoaster, he doesn’t need to drink bee wings or rabbit noses, that will only make things worse.

He just wants to die.

And kill everyone in Glee.

Mostly Rachel. For having that party. And Puck. For breaking out the alcohol. Mostly he just wants to die.

Mostly he just wants to die.

His cell phone ringing sounds like four hundred Fourth of July fireworks all going off at the same time right next to his ear.

Mike would scream if it wouldn’t hurt his head so much.

He sits up to grab the phone, hits the call button, and then feels a rush of nausea wash over him. Oh, that doesn’t feel good.

Everything sways around him. The walls start spinning. Colours start blurring.

He’s going to be sick.

He’s going to be so sick it isn’t even funny.

Mike drops back down to the bed, lying face up this time, and takes a few deep, shallow breaths, trying to calm his churning stomach. He’s not going to be sick. He’s not going to be sick. He’s not going to be sick.

The nausea passes, but lets Mike know he won’t be standing up for some time.

Remembering the reason his stomach felt like it wanted to purge everything from inside him like a spewing volcano in the first place, Mike lifts the phone back to his ear.

“Don’t you want me baby?” Brittany sings under her breath to herself, “Don’t you want me, oh.”

“Britt?” he asks, his voice hoarse and frog-like.

“Lobsterman,” she replies. “You answered but didn’t say anything.”

“Sorry.”

“Hung over?”

“Dying a fiery death in hell, complete with chainsaws, pitchforks, and battleaxes.”

“Remind me never to vacation there,” the blonde says brightly.

One of the few annoying things about Brittany is her inability to truly become hung over. She’ll feel a little under the weather maybe, but generally the pounding headache, noise and light sensitivity, body aching, and all around waiting for death feeling? Brittany gets none of that. Maybe a sore stomach, especially if she’s really active the next day. That’s about it.

He can remember all the popular crowd parties they’ve both been to, where she’ll have just as much to drink as him, and dance and party just as long and hard as him. But come the next day she’ll call him, bouncing on the other end of the phone, asking this or that like it’s another sunny day in paradise while he’s lying in agony as someone rips out every bone in his body through his skull.

But she knows other’s get annoyed when they’re hung over the next day at school and she isn’t; he’s seen her tone down her perky mood at school when there was a party that weekend.

She’ll probably show up on Monday with sunglasses to cover her eyes too, just so the rest of the Glee club doesn’t hate her.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks, unsure why he wants to know how little pain she’s in.

“My stomach isn’t feeling too great; nearly lost it when Dad made pancakes for brunch. I couldn’t eat any with syrup. It was making me gag. But my head’s fine. Kelsey woke me up by blasting her Taylor Swift CD at seven this morning and I didn’t feel the need to scream at her.”

“Lucky you.”

“Bad headache?”

“Yeah.” It feels like a group of elephants and rhinos are warring a game of Hungry, Hungry Hippos inside his head. With real hippos.

“What did we even _do_ last night,” he moans.

Brittany answers semi-brightly, conscious of his hangover, “Well, we were at Rachel’s and there was alcohol and we kind of lost it. Rachel lost her calm, Kurt’s pretend boyfriend lost his hair gel, Lauren lost her glasses, I lost my shirt…”

“Got it, Britt.”

“Right.”

She gives a tiny sigh. It’s small and light and feather-like but it still manages to hold so much.

Something tells Mike they’re about to have another one of their intense Brittany-Santana-awkward-situation conversations.

Of course. He’s so hung over he’s afraid all of his insides are going to spill out, intestines and all, the next time he sits up, and she needs him to be serious and have an intense conversation.

Mike loves Brittany, but just once he wishes she could wait a few hours before spilling out her pain for him to help her wade through.

“What’s up?” He asks, trying to sound light and helpful, when all he wants right now is telekinetic powers so he can close his blinds without having to get up.

She stays quiet on the other line for a long time before finally offering, “I’m a bad person.”

“No, you aren’t.” It’s like saying water isn’t wet. Not true. Brittany isn’t a bad person. Even through his molasses-state brain, this is a clear and coherent thought.

“I am though. All of this is my fault.”

“You and Santana?”

He can tell she’s just nodded into the phone. “…Yeah.”

“How is it your fault?”

“Because I was pushing her before she was ready, and I knew it. I knew she’d clam up but I pushed her anyways. And then _I_ got mad that she clammed up because that’s all she ever does so I went and did something stupid to make her jealous and now it’s just a mess and I’m the centre of it.”

The image of Brittany standing in the middle of a tornado-beaten field floats through Mike’s very sore head.

“I don’t think this is your fault any more than it’s Santana’s.”

“Maybe not before,” she agrees sadly, “But now…”

“What happened?” He doesn’t want to know. He wants to lie still enough that all his brain cells will just fall away and the pain will end. But he asks anyway.

He can hear her fidgeting on the other line, the rustle of blankets indicating she’s probably lying on her bed talking with him.

“Brittany?”

“I…” She makes a frustrated noise, like she’s mad at herself for not being able to say what she wants to say. If this were any other time, he’d say something to encourage her that it’s okay, she can talk to him. Instead, he lies in silence and waits, wondering when the nightmare of pain going on inside his brain will end.

He’s not generally a mean person, but he finds himself hoping she’ll say whatever it is soon, because the sooner she speaks and he comforts her, the sooner he can hang up and go back to sleeping away his throbbing headache. Being hung over is one of his least favourite experiences in general. But this? This is just torture.

How much alcohol did he even have to consume to be this hungover?

“I…” Brittany tries again, stopping Mike’s internal musings. “I slept with Santana.”

The words register within his brain, but Mike can’t really see how they’re relevant at the moment.

“Last night, I slept with her. I… I cheated on Artie.”

Oh.

“Oh.” He isn’t one for eloquence right now.

“Mike, I… its all my fault. It just hurt, seeing her kissing Sam all night and I couldn’t _do_ anything about it. And I was trying to pretend with Artie, pretend like everything was okay even though it wasn’t. I drank a lot, Mike. I think I drank more last night than I have at any other party but it didn’t make any of the pain go away. It made things blur but nothing went away. I kept seeing her with Sam and it ripped me apart inside. But when she did those shots off me it set me on fire and… And then you guys made me kiss Sam and everything just started spinning and I couldn’t make sense of anything anymore.

“And then when everyone was crashing and leaving and getting rides I ended up next to her. I know she had more to drink than I did, and I… I know how she gets when she’s drunk…”

Brittany trails off for a minute and Mike hears something rustle but his pounding head is too sore to try and decipher it.

When Brittany starts speaking again, her voice is weak and wavering. “I asked her if we could walk home together and I knew she’d say yes; her place is closer to Rachel’s than mine. And when we got there I just… I needed her. I needed her and I knew what buttons to press and it was so easy and it felt so good, Mike. She gave in so easily and it felt so right to be in her arms again. And… God, I slept with her. I cheated on Artie and slept with her.”

She sniffles and Mike blinks back into being fully alert.

“Mike… Mike, tell me I’m not a bad person for doing this.”

“Brittany,” he starts. But he can’t find the right words to continue. Suddenly things got a whole lot more complicated. He wants to reassure her but something his holding him back.

“I wanted it, Mike. I wanted it so badly, to be hers again. F-for her to be mine. To just touch her and n-not have it hurt inside. But like this, Mike… Mike, I didn’t want it like this. A-and I can’t go back now. I can’t take it back. I d-don’t w-want to take it back, not with her.

“But… but A-Artie…” Her words stumble with the weight of her tears. “Mike, I… how… how could I d-do this to A-Ar-Artie…”

She cries and he lets her. His pain is pushed as far back into his mind as possible right now, letting him focus as much as he can on Brittany and her pain, because her pain is so much worse.

“Britt, Britt you’re not…”

“I am though,” she whimpers and now he knows what the noise from before was, she’s not lowering the phone as she brushes her tears away with tissues. “How… how could I…” Her words fade into sobs.

It hurts Mike a little inside, knowing Brittany’s done this. Knowing that she willingly did this. Even inhibited by alcohol, she still wanted it to begin with, to be with Santana again.

He’s friends with Artie. He’s been friends with Brittany much longer, yes. But he’s still good friends with Artie. And it doesn’t feel right, knowing she’s cheated on Artie when he doesn’t know.

But hearing how upset Brittany is with herself on the other line is what keeps Mike from wanting to tell Artie the truth. As much as it might clear Mike’s conscience, telling Artie would only make this mess more complicated. Because as much as Brittany wants to be with Santana, Santana isn’t ready. That’s the whole reason Brittany’s gotten herself into this situation.

And telling Artie might end up forcing Santana into a situation she isn’t ready to be in yet.

And Brittany knowing she’s the reason for both of their pains might be what breaks her.

This is the logic Mike’s brain comes up with, a reasoning despite his very hung over state, for why he can’t say anything to Artie the next day at school, or any of the days after. Brittany latches back onto Artie, clinging to him as if he knows what’s going on and she’s begging him to forgive her. Santana and Brittany become even more distant. They’re drawn together more often, Mike can see it in Glee, how their bodies gravitate towards each other now. But they force themselves apart and refuse to acknowledge what happened.

The guilt of knowing Artie was cheated on begins to slowly eat away at Mike. But he doesn’t tell. Because in the end, he isn’t truly sure who’d be hurt more if Artie found out. Artie, Santana, or Brittany herself.


	8. Chapter 8

Brittany begins to distance herself from Mike over the next few weeks. She – for the first time Mike can remember – doesn’t show up to freestyle night at Jupiter’s. She tries not to sit near him in Glee, and when she does, keeps the conversation away from herself. And in gym class, their only class together this semester, she focuses on whatever activity they’re doing and tries to keep one or two classmates near her at all times, so he can’t talk to her privately.

He knows why she’s doing it. And on some level, he’s glad.

She gets that he’s uncomfortable knowing she cheated on Artie, so she’s trying to keep the topic from coming up again. For which Mike is thankful, because it really is hard, not telling Artie something like this. Under any other circumstance, he’d tell. Artie deserves to know. He deserves to know that, as much as Brittany loves him, she loves Santana more and is just settling with him.

The problem is that Mike isn’t sure if Artie knowing is more important than keeping Brittany – and Santana – from shattering to pieces.

Brittany’s a good person at heart. And he can see her secret is eating her up inside. She’s probably drowning herself in enough guilt as it is. Having Artie know and force even more guilt on her might tip her over the edge.

And Mike is no expert on Santana, but having Artie – and by association, the rest of Glee and possibly the rest of the school, knowing Glee Club’s gossip record – know she slept with her best _female_ friend and more than likely has feelings for this same female friend? He doesn’t know what’s holding Santana together at this point, but he knows that if the news comes out, the glue will give.

So Brittany keeping away from Mike makes it a little easier to breathe. He still has no idea what to do, but with Brittany staying away, her cheating isn’t at the forefront of his mind.

Until she and Santana perform an impromptu number with Ms Holliday that eventually ends with all the Glee kids tromping around the choir room – this is supposed to be about sex education? – and he knows the two of them need to have a talk.

He catches up with her after classes that day. Or, well, more like he corners her at her locker.

He sneaks up and leans with his back against the locker’s next to hers, casually looking across at the opposite side of the hallway. When she closes her locker door and sees him she gives a startled squeak and jumps back. “Mike!”

“Hey.”

“Hi, um,” she frowns, “What’s wrong? You don’t normally ninja your way to my locker.”

“Wondered if we could talk.”

Her eyes cloud and she looks him up and down slightly, then glances back and forth across the hall before looking back at him. She can probably tell this isn’t a casual catch-up conversation. But she smiles brightly, “Sure. What’s up?”

“Maybe the hallway isn’t the best place for this.”

He can see she doesn’t like that, but she doesn’t argue, simply nods for him to lead the way.

They end up outside, sitting on the bleachers overlooking the football field the Cheerio’s are practising on. Brittany smiles fondly at them, not in a jealous way, more like she’s almost glad to not be down there. He knows she loved Cheerio’s, but she doesn’t seem bitter about no longer being on the team.

Although, hearing Coach Sylvester’s screams carry across the field probably makes it easier for her. That woman is scary.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Mike leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky. “Haven’t seen much of you lately.”

“You see me all the time, lobsterman.”

Mike shakes his head. “You weren’t at Jupiter’s the other night.”

Brittany pauses, thinking up an excuse. “I-”

“Don’t bother,” Mike says. He doesn’t need her to give him a false reason. He knows why she’s been avoiding him. “I get it. I’m like your conscience so you’re trying to avoid me.”

She lets her mask fall away as she opens up. “I don’t need you as a conscience. I’m enough of my own conscience. All I can think about is how much this mess makes me a bad person.” The bleachers clang as she beings to bang her heels rhythmically against them. “I don’t want to be this person. I never wanted to be this person, this person that destroys other people’s lives along with her own. But as much as I hate it – as much as I hate myself right now – I can’t stop. I can’t stop what I’m doing because as disgusting as I feel… it still feels good. It still feels right.”

Her heels continue banging against the cold metal in time with the beat of the routine the Cheerio’s on the field are practising to. “That’s why I’m avoiding you. Not because you’re going to make me feel guilty… but because you’re going to try and help and… and it will just make me feel worse.”

She’s staring down at the field intently, but Mike casts a sidelong glance at her and sees she’s blinking rapidly, trying to keep herself from getting upset.

“You’re one of my closest friends, but… but I can’t talk with you about it because there isn’t anything to talk about. I know I’m a bad person. Nothing you say can make it better.”

“Brittany-”

“It’s fine, Mike.”

“Brittany, you’re torturing yourself by doing this, keeping this secret from him. You need to tell him.”

She shakes her head sadly, “I can’t. I feel horrible about everything. I do. It’s just… it’s easier to pretend, you know?” Her fingers begin to pick at the bottom hem of her jacket as she says her words softly, “I pretend so often with other things, it’s easier to pretend with this too. That everything’s okay.”

“So you’re pretending? Your relationship with Artie, you’re just pretending?”

“No!” She turns sharply to look at him, angling her body on the seat so she’s facing him. “I’m not pretending about my feelings for Artie. I love him. I care about him. I didn’t mean to at first, but I do. I do care about him. And… and if things were different… if things were different I think I’d truly be happy with him.”

“But they aren’t.”

A tear does break free of her lashes, but she doesn’t lift a hand to wipe it away. She lets it roll down her cheek as she continues, “I feel like I’m on a teeter-totter. I’m balancing in the middle, with my best friend on one side and my boyfriend on the other. And… and I don’t know how to make everything level. There isn’t a way to make it level. I keep sliding over to Santana and then I have to jump back to Artie to make it stay balanced.”

Mike takes a moment to process this, reviewing everything she’s just said.

He gets the feeling that maybe the thing with Santana wasn’t just a one-time thing.

Has Brittany been cheating on Artie repeatedly now? Is that what she means?

Mike chooses not to vocalise his worries. He’s probably better off not knowing.

“Brittany, you can’t keep doing this.”

“I just don’t want to hurt him.”

“So you’re choosing to keep him in the dark? Brittany, that isn’t fair to him.”

“I don’t want to hurt him, Mike. No matter what I do, someone gets hurt. Either I hurt San or I hurt Artie. At least… at least with the way it is right now… right now I’m the one hurting. I’m the one doing the wrong thing and being the bad person, but they’re both still okay.”

“Brittany, it doesn’t work like that,” Mike says softly. “You can’t have both.”

She pouts and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Brittany?” He prods gently.

“I know.”

“You know what?”

“That I can’t have both. But I…”

They lapse into silence. Mike waits for her to figure out her thoughts. Brittany simply sits and watches her old teammates run and jump and cheer on the field.

Another tear rolls down her cheek. Mike leans over and loops an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. He can hear her breathing deeply, trying to steady herself, as she rests her head on his shoulder. With his free hand, he squeezes the two she has clasped in her lap, trying to lend her his strength.

Mike isn’t really sure how to ease any of her pain, but he hopes simply being there for her does something.

“I can’t have both,” Brittany speaks up. “But I can’t have what I want.”

Mike smiles sadly, because that basically sums up the situation she’s gotten herself in.

“I hate it,” she mumbles, turning so she’s further burrowed into his body. He can hear the flutter in her voice as she tries to push her tears down. “I hate that this is my life now; I can’t have her so I’m with him. I hate that I’m doing this to him. I hate that she’s doing this to me. But I don’t blame her for doing it to me.”

Mike rubs her back as she speaks, allowing her to let all her frustrations out.

“But I don’t know what else to do, Mike. She… she won’t let me have what I want.”

He holds her for a while longer before speaking up, “You need to talk to her.”

Brittany shakes her head, shifting how she’s leaning on him so that she’s looking out at the field again instead of into his shirt. She lets out a slow breath. “No. I can’t talk with her.”

“Brittany, I think you ne-”

“No, I mean that she won’t let me. That’s how this all started. I push her a little bit to talk about what we’re doing and she brushes me off. I love her, Mike. I love her so much, but she… all she ever does is blow me off. I can’t keep giving into that. It will…”

Destroy you, Mike thinks. If Brittany allows herself to keep being unintentionally beaten down by Santana it will destroy her. Destroy her in a way that Mike won’t be able to pick up the pieces from afterwards. He knows Santana doesn’t mean to, but her own fears are wearing Brittany raw, right down to her breaking point.

“She won’t let me have what I want. It’s the only thing I want. I want to hold her hand and kiss her in public. I want to grow old with her and live in a tiny cottage with lots of grandchildren with her. I want to argue about how to properly fold socks with her. I just want her. And I want…” she pauses a long moment before continuing, choosing her words carefully and making sure they mean exactly what she wants them to, “I want her to be proud. I don’t want her to brush her feelings off anymore. I don’t want her to make people think we’re just friends.

“I want…”

She doesn’t have to say it, but Mike already knows.

She wants with Santana what she has with Artie.

“Brittany, you need to talk to her. You need to let her know how you feel,” Mike tries to reason. Brittany is scared and hurting and he can’t keep watching this. He can’t keep watching them both self-destruct. They need to talk about it.

“She won’t.”

“So make her,” Mike says with gentle force. “Tell her you need to talk about the relationship you two have. Tell her how you feel, how… how cheating on Artie makes you feel.” He feels her flinch in his arms but he pushes on. “If she won’t admit to you how she feels, at least get her to define what you two are doing, what this relationship means to her. Because Brittany,” he shifts, pulling away from her.

Her blue eyes are sad and wet as he takes her by the shoulder and looks directly at her, “Brittany, you can’t keep doing this.”

* * *

Mike shoulder’s his bag, shuts the gym locker, and leaves the locker room. Even though the season is over, Coach Beiste insists they keep practising and stay in shape. He’s just stepped through the doorway, turning towards the doors that lead out to the parking lot, when a voice startles him.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

He jumps nearly a foot in the air. Artie’s sitting in his wheelchair, parked across the hall from the locker room door, waiting for him. Alone.

Mike gulps before answering, “Sure? What’s up?”

Artie inclines his head and starts rolling his chair forward. Mike follows, already dreading the coming conversation. They end up in the front foyer of the school, where Artie waits for his Dad to pick him up on days he stays late. Mike stands a few steps away from where Artie parks his chair, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

He’s well aware of how guilty and nervous he must look, but he can’t stop fidgeting.

“Mike?”

Mike’s head shoots up from where it was looking down at his sneakers, “Yeah. What’s up?”

“You okay, dude?”

Nodding, Mike answers, “Leftover energy from practice. What did you want to talk about?”

“There’s no easy way to say this so I’m just going to… I’m just going to say it.”

“Okay?”

“Santana,” Artie says. “I wanted to talk about Santana.”

Mike was afraid of this. He’s not sure he really wants to have this conversation. He still isn’t sure where he stands. Tell Artie, or keep it a secret? He wants to do the right thing, but it’s such a confusing and complicated situation he has no idea what the right thing even is. He wants to be loyal to Artie, the bro code and all, but he’s known Brittany almost his whole life.

Artie continues, unaware of Mike’s internal struggle, “You’ve known her a while now, right?”

Mike nods, “Yeah. Brittany’s known her since elementary school, she introduced us.”

Artie nods, like this is information that matches what he’s been told.

“And you’ve known Brittany…?”

“Years,” Mike replies, “We went to dance class together when we were still in diapers.”

Again, Artie nods.

“So, you know Brittany pretty well? You know Brittany’s… relationship with Santana pretty well?”

Mike can actually feel the colour draining from his face.

“Artie,” he tries, his voice sounding like the croak of a frog.

Artie waits, assuming Mike is going to be able to get the rest of his sentence out.

When he doesn’t the wheelchair-bound boys sighs, “I’m just worried. Santana is very… territorial. And I know she and Brittany have been friends for a long time, and I… I worry about the nature of their relationship together.”

This is because of Landslide, Mike tells himself. Artie has no idea Brittany cheated and is possibly still cheating on him; he’s only bringing this up because of Landslide.

“They’re best friends,” Mike offers.

“I know. They’re just really close is all.”

“They’ve always been close. They’ve been attached at the hip since they met.” Mike isn’t really sure why he’s still talking, he knows he should just make up an excuse and get the hell out of there.

 Artie shakes his head, “It’s not that. It’s more of… sometimes I wonder who Brittany cares more about, me or Santana.”

“She loves you,” Mike says, repeating Brittany’s words from earlier.

“I-”

Mike is saved when Artie’s phone goes off, indicating his father is waiting in the parking lot. Mike throws him an apologetic look and then takes off, leaving Artie alone in the front foyer.

This mess is only going to get deeper.

* * *

Mike’s sitting in his Anthropology class, completely ignoring everything going on at the front of the room. The teacher is reading from the textbook – which is usually an amusing thing, since Mike sometimes thinks his Anthropology teacher believes this is a drama class. He isn’t _reading_ from the textbook as much as he’s acting out a passage about human cultural norms.

On any other day, it would be an amusing sight.

But instead of paying attention he’s looking across the aisle at Brittany.

Brittany, who’s sitting her in seat with a sad, sad look on her face. She didn’t get any of her books out when she sat down and has been staring at the top of her desk for the past ten minutes. Mike knows something happened, but when he tried talking to her while everyone was still taking their seats she brushed him off. And it wasn’t a typical Brittany brush-off, where she comes up with some ridiculous line meant to distract him from his efforts. She simply bit her lip and shook her head at him, indicating she didn’t want to talk about it.

It isn’t that hard to guess that something happened with Santana. The look on her face speaks volumes about what she’s trying to hold in. She looks sad, confused, and near tears. But she’s putting on a brave face and trying to hold everything back.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Tossing a glance at the teacher to make sure he won’t get caught – and he won’t, the man at the front of the room is way too engrossed in what he’s doing – Mike opens his phone to read the message.

_I won’t be at school the rest of the day – don’t get mad! Something happened to Santana, she needs a friend right now. I’ll call you later. Love you._

Despite the fact that he’s really worried about what’s going on, Mike smiles. He’s proud of Tina, knowing she’s looking out for Santana. He looks over at Brittany again and his face falls.

Now he needs to look out for Brittany.

_I’m in class with Britt right now, she looks sad, won’t tell me what’s up. Are they fighting again? I’ll let Sam know at lunch that Santana’s out. I’ll miss you. You’re such a good person. Love you too._

When class ends he tries to follow Brittany as everyone is leaving the room, wanting a moment alone to talk with her, but his plan is thwarted when she brushes past him, casting a sharp, “Don’t” in his direction before she slips from the room and into the sea of fast-moving bodies in the hallway.

* * *

Brittany’s waiting for him by his locker at the end of the day, a forlorn look on her face. She’s leaning against the locker next to his, looking down at her shoes. Her bag is dropped at her feet and she’s clutching a textbook tightly against her chest. Getting closer he can tell she got a little teary at some point in the day since he last saw her; her cheeks are red and her eye makeup is smudged. She blinks a few times when he approaches, but doesn’t move as he opens his locker.

Mike hastily shuffles his things around, transferring what he needs for tonight into his bag and what can wait until tomorrow into his locker. He shuts it with a loud click and then simply stands, waiting for the blonde to acknowledge him.

He can see her chest slowly rise and fall. Her knuckles have gone white from holding the book so hard. Brittany doesn’t look up at him, simply pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and chews it nervously. Her glossy eyes close as she wills the world to disappear around her.

“Come on,” he murmurs, grabbing her bag, slipping an arm around her back and leading her away from the lockers. Brittany allows herself to be led, dejectedly walking next to him and turning when he turns.

He sits them down on the steps to one of the side entrances of the school. There’s no one around, so they sit on the hard pavement in silence, watching cars drive by on the road across from them.

“I hurt her,” Brittany speaks after a long time. It startles Mike slightly, he wasn’t expecting her to tell him what happened. He had been fine simply offering moral support. But talking it out is good; it lets him know she hasn’t completely shut down.

“What happened?”

“She… she asked me to be with her. Like… like a girlfriend, I think.”

If this were any other situation, Mike would whistle his surprise. Because that must have been one hell of a step for Santana to take.

But the dread sinks in a moment later when he realises neither Brittany nor Santana are in happy moods. Brittany said no?

Brittany said _no?_

She can sense his question, “I… I told her I couldn’t.”

He squeezes the arm still wrapped around her middle, encouraging her to continue.

She waits a while before speaking again, watching three cars drive by and a squirrel run across the road. Mike waits, giving her the time she needs. Eventually, she takes a deep, slow breath and blows it out before continuing. “I don’t think I can do that to Artie. Not… not the way she wants.”

“And how does she want it?” Mike asks, his voice soft and un-accusing.

“If… If Artie weren’t in the picture then maybe I could… I could wait while she… I get that this is hard for her, that she needs time. But… I’m already hurting him, I can’t hurt him more. She wants to be with me, but she’s… ashamed. I can’t… I can’t leave him for that.

“Mike, I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore,” she chokes out the last word, tears suddenly flooding down over her face. She turns, forehead falling against his shoulder. Her arms wrap around his back and she clings there, sobbing into him, while he stays as strong and steady as he can. It isn’t about his confusion right now. She needs him to hold her and comfort her while she drowns.

Brittany’s tears don’t lessen; they get stronger as the realisation of just how deep of a hole she’s fallen into descends upon her. Her body shakes and tremors against his as she lets the depression drag her down. But she clings to him, trying to keep herself from falling away altogether.

“I’ve got you, Brittany.” It’s the truest thing he can tell her.


	9. Chapter 9

“I really don’t understand this.”

“What’s there to not understand?”

“The plot?”

Tina sits up from where she’d been leaning against him, turning her head so she can frown down at him. “What do you mean, _the plot?_ ”

It’s Saturday evening and his parents are out for their anniversary. His sister is at a birthday party sleepover.

It’s movie and cuddle night for him and Tina.

They started off the evening sitting side by side on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on Mike’s lap. Eventually, the bowl was bumped onto the coffee table and Tina snuggled up to him, an arm around his waist and her head leaning against his chest. He had been running a hand through her long hair until he opened his big mouth and caused her to sit up and glare at him.

“What?”

“What isn’t there to get?”

“Tina, this movie is ridiculous.”

“I don’t understand how you’ve gone your whole life without seeing it.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” he quips. “Really, I wasn’t missing all that much.”

She slaps his shoulder. “I love this movie!”

“How can you love it? I don’t even understand what’s going on.”

She turns further so she’s sitting sideways on the couch, looking at him intently. Just from the look on her face Mike knows he should have kept his mouth shut.

“What don’t you get?” she asks, ready to explain.

Mike decides to start off small, “Well for one, why are there giant rats in that forest?”

“Weren’t you listening? They’re the Rodents of Un-”

“Got that. I don’t get why they’re massive.”

“They just are, Mike. It’s a fairy tale.”

“Not really.”

She shakes his head at him, “It is totally a fairy tale. It’s a fairy tale, a love story.”

“No, it’s totally lame.”

Tina pouts, “You’re hurting my feelings. I love this movie.”

“How can you love it? He ran away and then comes back and she’s still in love with him but she’s going to marry someone else?” He really doesn’t understand how this movie is in any way logical.

“Were you listening at all? Were you even watching the movie? He didn’t run away! He was captured by the Dread-”

“Yeah, I got it. He took over and went all bad and wears a mask but now he’s back. Tina,” he says with all the seriousness he can muster, “This movie is lame.”

She moves so fast to grab a handful of popcorn to throw at him Mike hardly has time to blink before he is being pelted by little bits of food. He sighs, giving her a bored, unimpressed look, before shoving her to the other side of the couch and grabbing his own handful of popcorn.

He’d rather have a popcorn fight than watch this damn movie anyways. Why are the rats so massive? And why do they all have such ridiculous names?

It ends when the popcorn is no longer in the bowl but scattered all over the floor, on their clothes, and in their hair. They’re both sprawled on the floor, breathing heavily. At one point she was chasing him through the house throwing popcorn at the back of his head.

God, he loves this girl.

The sound of his phone buzzing against the coffee table makes them both jump. Tina’s closer so she reaches for it. “It’s Brittany,” she says, flipping open the phone to read the message. “She wants to know if she can come over.”

Mike doesn’t answer for a moment, thinking. He’d really rather just spend the night goofing off with Tina. But, well, Brittany might need him.“Mike?”

“Mike?”“Tell her… um…” Mike can’t think of an appropriate response. This could be important, but, but, Tina.

“Tell her… um…” Mike can’t think of an appropriate response. This could be important, but, but, Tina.

He looks over at his girlfriend when he sees her forming a reply, “What are you texting her?” She’s lying on her back, holding the phone up in the air above her face, typing.

“You said to tell her ‘um,’ so I’m telling her ‘um.’ Jeez, Mike, get with it,” she turns her head and smiles adorably at him.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at her.

“Oh,” Tina squeaks when the phone buzzes in her hands. She opens the new message and reads it. “Oh,” she repeats, this time sounding sad.

“What?” Mike asks, sitting up.

Tina just nods towards the front door.

Mike stands up and walks towards his front door, glancing over his shoulder at Tina, who’s sitting up and beginning to dust off the popcorn that’s clinging to her dress. He opens the door and Brittany’s there, nibbling on her lip and looking off to the side. When she realises the door’s open she looks up at him, a shy smile on her face.

“You texted while you were on the doorstep, didn’t you?”

She nods sheepishly. “I… I got here and then realised you might already have plans so… so I figured I should…” she trails off, looking over his shoulder.

Tina’s arm looping around his back tells him what the blonde is looking at.

“You… you have plans,” Brittany says quietly. Her face falls only slightly, like she’s trying to keep it together and pretend everything’s okay.

Mike can hear the smile in Tina’s voice as she speaks, grabbing Brittany’s arm and pulling her inside, “It’s fine, Brittany. We were just having a popcorn war.”

Mike closes the door once Brittany’s inside, shutting out the evening chill Brittany was standing in. Without a coat. She’s rubbing her arms now, but Mike isn’t sure if it’s too warm her up or a fidget to do something with her hands.

Tina smiles gently, “I’ll go clean up the rest of the popcorn, you two go talk.”

A look of relief appears on Brittany’s face, like she was afraid she might have to talk about whatever it is she needs to talk about in front of Tina. Mike inclines his head towards the stairs and Brittany nods, following him up to his room.

Mike sits down on the edge of his bed when they enter the room, watching Brittany bounce around on her feet in the middle of the floor.

He studies her, reading her mood. She isn’t depressed, that much is obvious right off the bat. She looks nervous, maybe a little concerned or upset, but she isn’t near tears, which is good. He cocks his head at her though when she continues to fidget on the spot, not speaking. She’s looking down at her socked feet. Mike can’t see anything interesting about them, but they must be pretty special socks, what with the way Brittany’s intently studying them.

“Jelly?”

“Peanut butter,” she says automatically, finally looking up at him. “Oh, no, wait, lobster.” She looks thoughtful for a moment, “There isn’t really a good short-form for your name, is there? Lob. Lobber? Lobs?”

“Don’t ever call me Lobber in public, Brittany. Please.”

She nods affirmatively. “Right.”

Mike realises she probably isn’t going to say anything about why she’s here unless he gives her a little push. “Britt? What’s up?”

“Um…” she sits down in his desk chair, gently swivelling it back and forth as she begins her story. “It’s about Artie.”

Mike closes his eyes for a moment, imagining massaging his temples. “Did you talk to him?”

“Well… technically, yes.”

“Technically?”

“I…” she continues pivoting back and forth on the chair. “Well, we talked, but not about what you want me to talk to him about.”

Mike sighs heavily, dropping his head into his hands. “Brittany, he tried talking to me. About you and Santana. I can’t keep lying to him.”

“I know,” she says timidly.

“Really, Britt,” Mike continues, looking up at her. “I can’t pretend that everything is okay between you two. He knows something’s up. You… you have to tell him, you can’t keep lying. It… I could rationalise it before, but… it wasn’t just the one time, was it?”

Her eyes flicker closed for a moment as she shakes her head minutely. Her voice is a low, an ashamed whisper as she says, “No, it’s been a few times now.”

Mike bobs his head angrily at her confirmation of what he already knew.

“I’m sorry.”

“Britt… I’m not the one you’re hurting in this. Artie… Artie deserves to know what’s going on.”

“But-”

“Brittany, I’m not you. So I can’t even begin to understand how truly difficult this whole thing is for you. But you can’t keep doing this. You need to pick between them. All you’re doing is hurting everyone in this whole situation. I get that it’s hard, Britt, I do. But you can’t keep doing this. Because it isn’t just going to hurt them, it’s going to destroy you.”

She stays quiet for a long time. Eventually, she stands and walks over to him, sitting down on the bed next to him. She stares down at her feet again where they rest on the floor. “Artie and I broke up.”

Mike’s eyes go wide and his head whips to look at Brittany head-on because, hello, he did not see that one coming.

Apparently, neither did Tina. “What?” she asks.

Brittany’s head lifts at the sound of the other girl’s voice. Her eyes widen and she blinks rapidly, her lips parted slightly. “I…” She looks terrified.

“Sorry,” Tina says, stepping into the room. She looks apologetically at them, “I wasn’t listening in, I swear.” Her eyes move from Brittany to Mike for a moment. “You’re Mom called. The car broke down so they’ll be a few hours.” She looks back at Brittany again, her voice gentle but firm, “I wasn’t listening.”

 Brittany sighs and ducks her head.

“Brittany?” Mike asks, laying a hand on her arm.

She lets a breath out through her teeth as the first tear makes its way down her cheek. Tina’s moving across the room and sitting on her other side in seconds, pulling Brittany into a hug. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Brittany lets herself be comforted by them both for a moment, Tina holding her and Mike rubbing her back. Then she pulls away, sitting up in between them. She uses the back of her hand to wipe away the tears and Mike can visibly see Brittany tell herself to stop crying.

“Britt, when did this all happen?”

She looks over at the clock on his table, “An hour or so ago?”

Tina makes a sympathetic noise and grabs Brittany’s hand, squeezing it.

“I… I didn’t know where else to… I just… I needed…”

“It’s okay, Britt,” Mike reassures her, shifting closer to continue rubbing her back. They’re both sitting on the edge of the bed, legs hanging over onto the floor. Brittany’s gently banging her feet against the base of his bed. Tina’s sitting sideways next to them, on leg curled under her and one hanging over the side. She squeezes Brittany’s hand again as Mike continues, “I don’t mind you coming here, Britt. Not if you need me. I’m so sorry.”

She uses her free hand to wipe at her face again. “It… I mean, he… he didn’t… it was… mutual? I mean he didn’t yell or say mean things or anything. He just… he asked me about…” She trails off, eyes widening. He sees her turn her head slightly to look at Tina and then begin to pull her hand away.

Tina doesn’t let go. “It’s okay, Brittany. I… I know, about what’s been going on with you and Santana.”

Brittany stiffens and sits very still for a long minute. Then she turns to look at Mike with the most painful look he’s ever seen her wear. She nods, like she understands. “You told her,” she breaths out. It isn’t a question.

“No,” Mike says. “I didn’t.”

She gives him a confused, helpless look before looking back at Tina. “Then how…?”

Tina looks a little sheepish, “I… I’ve been helping Santana out these last few months. I’ve been trying to help her… help her deal with everything. To listen when she needed someone to talk to. I, I only know her side of things, but…”

In spite of her tears, a small, happy smile makes its way onto Brittany’s face and she makes a breathy sound that could almost be a laugh. “Yeah?” She looks genuinely happy that Santana’s had someone looking out for her while her world was falling apart.

His girlfriend nods, “Yeah. She… it seemed like she needed someone to be there for her, to help her deal with the pain of-” Tina cuts herself off and starts again. “Everyone deserves someone to talk to.”

Brittany looks hesitantly at Tina, “I kind of stole your boyfriend for that.”

Tina’s eyes are bright when she answers, “That I don’t mind.” She makes eye contact with Mike, smiling her approval at him.

Tina’s just confirmed what Mike’s been assuming for the past little while, and it makes pride flutter in his chest. He’s so proud of Tina in this moment, for being there for Santana. For being there for her when he’s sure there were times when Santana wanted nothing to do with Tina or her offers of help.

“You can tell us what happened, okay?” Tina goes on. “I don’t know your side of things, but… you don’t have to lie, okay? I know what’s been going on, what you two have been going through.”

Brittany nods her head slightly and finally lets herself relax where she sits between them. Her shoulders sink down and her lips part to release a shaky breath. “I don’t know what to feel.”

Tina’s voice is soft as she prods, “Maybe start from the beginning?”

Brittany nods, “He invited me over. To talk. He…” she shakes her head at herself, “He didn’t know about me and San but… he knew enough. He… he gets it. That she and I feel…”

“That’s good,” Mike offers, “Isn’t it?”

Brittany nods but her nod slowly turns into her shaking her head. “I feel bad, for what I did to him. And, I mean, I’m sad that we… that we aren’t together anymore. But at the same time… I feel guilty.”

“Why do you feel guilty?” Tina asks gingerly, her hands rubbing soothing circles over the top of Brittany’s hand

Another tear trickles down. “Be… because I’m… I…” Mike can see she’s trying to hold her words back, not wanting to burden them with her problems. But it’s a little late for that at this point, not that Mike minds. He lays a hand on her arm and gives it an encouraging squeeze. “Because I’m happy,” she breathes out.

It takes Mike a moment to decipher what she means by this. His eyes trace the side of her face, studying her intently. She has that look on her face, the one she wears when she doesn’t know if she should laugh or cry. “You’re happy?” He finally asks her.

She bobs her head weakly, looking down at her lap with a frown. “I’m happy that I don’t have to lie to him anymore. Happy that I… that I can work things out with San now, if she… if she…” Her face pinches and she whimpers, blue eyes speaking volumes for how terrified she suddenly feels. “What if she…”

Mike knows to stop that train of thought before it crashes and Brittany shatters further. “She does.”

She shakes her head violently and tries to pull away from them and get off the bed. Neither Mike nor Tina are having any of that, though. Mike keeps his grip on her arm, and Tina laces their hands together more firmly. Brittany frowns sadly, face looking like a lost puppy. “But I hurt her. I… I broke her. Because I… I told her…”

“Brittany,” Tina whispers, leaning closer. “You hurt her, but you didn’t break her. She’s still Santana, and she still wants to be with you.”

“No, no, I-”

“Brittany,” Mike interrupts, “I don’t think she could ever stop loving you.”

The blonde starts to slide into a panic. “No, no, I can’t, I hurt her too badly. She’s too scared and I can never give her what she wants and-” Her words die as she favours trying to stop the tears from spilling over her cheeks. Body crumbling in on herself, Brittany’s face etches into pure heartache as she starts to doubt Santana’s feelings for her.

Mike is prepared to do damage control to calm the girl down, and he’s already pulling her into his arms, but Tina surprises him and takes over verbally. “Brittany,” she coos softly, “Brittany, you’re getting yourself worked up for no reason.”

Brittany’s breathing hitches. Mike shifts her, so her back is pressing against his front and she’s facing Tina. One of his arms is wrapped around her to ground her while the other find’s Tina’s hand when she scoots closer. Tina flashes him a smile and focuses again on the blonde.

“Brittany, I know this week has probably been hard for you. What happened between you two at the lockers, and then with Artie. But,” she pauses and tries to fight the frown on her face, “Brittany, have you… have you noticed Santana recently?”

Mike’s eyebrows furrow. What?

He looks down to see Brittany’s head nod slightly. She pulls away from him to sit up properly, lips parted in thought as she tries to answer Tina. He can see her running through every interaction she’s had with the Latina since she turned her down. “She was the first one to say she liked Rachel’s original song when she sang it for us,” Brittany says slowly. “And… and she meant it. And… and you and her… that song… You and her sang that song for Glee, the one you two wrote.”

Blinking in uncertainty but with a small smile tugging at her lips, Brittany continues, “She and Sam…”

“Not together anymore,” Tina fills in happily.

“Wait,” Mike questions, “When did that happen?” Now that he thinks of it, yes, Santana and Sam weren’t sitting together the last few times he saw them. But when did they break up?

“A little while ago.”

“Why,” Brittany asks hesitantly, “Why did she break up with Sam?”

Tina rolls her eyes playfully, “Why do you think, Brittany?”

Brittany’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape.

“She’s trying,” Tina explains softly. “She’s… she’s not there yet, where you need her to be, Brittany. But she’s getting there. She wants to be with you, she’s scared, but she wants you, and she’s trying to prove it.” Tina offers Brittany a happy smile, “She’s been sitting with you in Glee the last few days, even though you were still with Artie.”

“I noticed that,” Brittany says, eyes unfocused and her voice filled with gentle awe. “We seemed… on better terms. We’ve been getting along. I thought… I thought it was because I… that she was trying to, that she had moved… moved on.”

Mike can’t help the slug he throws the blonde’s arm, “As if she’d do that.”

“She still needs time,” Tina continues, taking Brittany’s hand once again. “But she… she isn’t scared anymore. This is what she wants.” She giggles to herself, “And she wants to prove it to you.”

Brittany’s eyes shimmer with something Mike can’t place. Wonderment. Awe. Love.

Probably love.

“You guys can’t tell her.”

“What?” Mike and Tina both ask at the same time.

“You can’t tell her Artie and I… I want to find the right time to… to tell her.”

Mike laughs, “You’re going to torture her, aren’t you?”

Brittany shakes her head, happy tears falling for the first time in a long, long time. “No, I just… I want this to be right.”

Mike looks over Brittany’s shoulder at Tina and shares a smile with her as he replies, “I think we could be convinced to keep quiet for a little while.”


	10. Chapter 10

“You sure it’s going to be safe there?” Tina asks.

“Positive. We threw a sheet over it and it’s leaning against a wall backstage. It looks just like the rest of the sound equipment back there,” Mike nods, speaking quietly. He watches Tina look nervously towards the side of the stage, as if she can see the slushie machine they borrowed hiding behind the red curtain. “It’ll be safe, don’t worry.”

“And the confetti?” She continues with her questions. They’re sitting in the audience, having just finished watching Aural Intensity’s… _interesting_ performance. Tina is next to him, with Santana on her other side. Next to Santana is Brittany, and Artie in the aisle in his wheelchair. Puck is on Mike’s other side. The other six along with Mr Schue are sitting in the row in front of him.

While Mr Schue was leading the rest of the club to their seats Puck and Mike snuck off to move the slushie machine off the bus. They had had to be careful, not wanting anyone in the audience – or the judges – to see them with it. It was supposed to be a surprise. They snuck into the audience in time to catch the tail end of Aural Intensity’s strange song.

To be honest, Mike isn’t really worried about them as competition.

“Rachel has the bags of confetti and the cups in her bag,” Mike answers, inclining his head to where Rachel is sitting in the seat in front of Tina. Sitting at Rachel’s feet is her backpack, which is surprisingly stuffed full considering it’s only holding twelve cups and a few packs of confetti.

Then again, this is Rachel. He wouldn’t be surprised if she packed a first aid kit or a bunch of thermal blankets, _just in case_ something disastrous happened; such as one of the girls miraculously going into labour, like last year. 

“What if someone takes off the sheet?” Tina asks, still looking over at the curtain.

“Then they’ll see a non-working slushie machine. We’ll fill the cups with the confetti right before we go on so no one knocks them over. Tina, don’t worry, it will-” Mike cuts himself short, watching with a confused frown as Rachel turns around and kneels in her seat, trying to look at them all over the back of her chair.

“Uh, Rach? What are you doing?” Mercedes asks, who’s sitting next to the tiny brunette.

“Just looking at how many people are in the audience.”

Quinn arches an eyebrow, “Any particular reason?”

“Counting.” Her head bobs as she counts the rows of seats and determines a rough number of people that are in the hall with them. “Okay, good. I think we’ll have enough.”

Puck huffs, “Enough what?”

“Kurt asked me to do him a favour before he and the Warblers went on stage.” She leans back and pulls her backpack up onto her lap – she’s still kneeling backwards on the seat – and opens it only enough to reach her hand inside, trying to keep whatever contents from spilling out.

“Rachel?” Brittany asks, leaning forward and gripping the top of the seat in front of her so she can peak over. She tilts her head to look down the row at Rachel. “What are you hiding in there? Is it a puppy?”

The brunette pulls her hand out of her bag, and in her grip is something that makes Mike’s eyes widen in curiosity.

Mercedes looks totally thrown. “Is that a _candle?_ ”

Rachel nods wickedly, “Battery operated.” She ignores the suggestive look Puck makes and continues, “We’re supposed to pass them out to the audience.”

Finn sports a dumbfounded look. “What?”

“They’re props for Kurt’s song. He said we’ll know when to use them. Now help me hand these out quick before they come on stage!”

Mike, along with the rest of the New Directions, accepts an armful of the fake candles from Rachel. Not only is her bag stuffed full of them, but there are also two other backpacks at her feet – Kurt and Blaine’s, how did she even get those? – also filled with the props. Everyone takes a bunch and they spread out, hurriedly passing them out to everyone in the audience. Whenever someone gives Mike a questioning look he repeats Rachel’s words, “You’ll know when to use them.”

Mike isn’t really worried about Aural Intensity. But the Warblers seem to have something big planned.

Mike hopes their own plan is bigger and better. Not that he wants to like, squash Kurt like a bug or anything, he likes Kurt. This is just friendly competition. May the best show choir win.

When the time for the plastic candles comes – Kurt and Blaine are dueting _Candles_ , clever – they all turn them on and wave them in the air. Even without the theatrics, the duet is really good.

Tina says so as soon as the Warblers finish their second number and leave the stage. “Mike! Mike, they had candles! What if that’s better than our confetti slushies?”

He just smiles and pulls her into a hug, “Don’t worry. We’ll kill this.”

* * *

Mike and Brittany are at the slushie machine this time, pulling off the sheet covering it and beginning to get their supplies out of Rachel’s bag.

“I love confetti,” Brittany giggles, ripping open a bag with her teeth.

“Don’t get that on yourself,” he says without looking at her, knowing she has the capability to become covered in red confetti fairly easily. She and her younger sister have a thing for anything glitter related. He’s un-stacking the cups, placing them on the floor next to the slushie machine so they can easily fill them.

Rachel is with the rest of the group off to the side of the stage, instructing everyone on where they need to stand for their entrance and going over instructions one last time.

“I know, that would totally ruin the surprise.”

Mike nods in agreement. He’s got all twelve cups laid out. Brittany hands him an opened pack and, taking her own, they begin filling the cups with red confetti.

“This is going to be so great.”

His response is a silent nod. It _is_ going to be great.

“Quinn is a genius,” Brittany continues. They had come up with most of the song lyrics while Rachel and Quinn were off trying to write their own song, but it was Quinn’s idea to slushie the audience.

Mike isn’t sure who came up with the confetti aspect of the slushie. But it was probably Brittany.

There’s a loud crash off to the left. Finn just tripped over some sound equipment as Rachel directs them all to their places.

When Mike turns back to his work he sees an unknown pair of feet standing next to the cups. He looks up from where he’s crouching on the ground and sees Kurt.

He stands hastily, rubbing confetti off his hands and onto his pants. Stupid static-cling. “Kurt.”

Kurt’s eyes are wide as he looks between the slushie machine, the cups at Mike’s feet, and Brittany sitting on the floor opening another packet of confetti. “Well. This looks… interesting.”

“Kurt!” Brittany squeals, leaping to her feet to hug him. When she pulls back she smacks him lightly on the shoulder, “You guys performed already, you aren’t supposed to be back here.”

“Clearly. It appears I might get slushied. What are you guys-?”

Mike cuts him off, “Wait and see. Now go!” He steps forward and, grasping Kurt by the shoulders, spins him and gives him a good shove towards the stage exit.

“You guys did amazing!” Brittany calls after him. Then she looks down at their now fully filled confetti cups. “I think we’re good.” She bends and grabs a few, setting them side by side on the slushie machine. Mike helps her, and pretty soon they’re ready to do.

“You know when to sneak off stage?” She asks as they make their way over to join the others, who are in their places and waiting to go out.

“Yep.”

“And you’ll be all ninja-like so no one notices?”

“Yep.”

“Good,” she nods before skipping away from him. She twirls a circle around Sam, smacks Puck’s ass, and then grabs Santana by the waist from behind and giggles into her ear. Santana shrieks in surprise but Brittany’s already moved on, twirling past Artie and sliding to a stop in her assigned spot next to Tina.

He knows that, whether they win or lose, Brittany plans on telling Santana today.

For her sake, Mike hopes they win. It will make it all that much more exciting.

* * *

Tina gives him a knowing smile as she holds Santana back a moment on stage so they’re the last ones off and at the back of the group. They had agreed on this with Brittany; Tina is supposed to put the ball in motion while Mike gives Brittany moral support as the group makes their way back to the green room.

Not that Brittany needs it. She’s up front with Rachel, laughing and singing as they lead the group down the hallway.

“Well I for one think that was the best performance we’ve ever given,” Artie says as Mike pushes his chair down the hallway.

“Does it top last year?” Sam asks, “When Quinn popped out the baby?”

Mercedes laughs, “One, we didn’t win that. Two, you do know she didn’t have the baby on stage, right?”

“Still probably made it a lot more exciting.”

“Oh yeah,” Mercedes agrees. “Watching Quinn’s already ghost-pale face go even whiter, top of my list of exciting things that have happened.”

“I heard that!”

“Why are you guys talking about last year?” Rachel asks, spinning to walk backwards down the hall so she can see them. Brittany joins her, spinning in front of Rachel to her other side so their linked hands can continue swinging.

Before any of them can respond, Brittany cuts in, “We didn’t win last year!”

Rachel continues, “We won this year! You guys! Do you know where we’re going?”

Both girls give an excited shout of “New York!” before turning tail and running down the last stretch of the hallway and bursting into the Green room in a fit of laughter.

“No more sugar for the giggle twins.” Mercedes smiles.

Sam nods, “I think they both may have ingested some of the glitter.”

“Has anyone ever been to New York?” Artie asks as the rest of the group follows the two girls, stepping into the room and spreading out to wait until they can leave.

“I’ve been to New York State,” Mike offers as he drops onto one of the couches, “I have a cousin who lives in the Hudson Valley.”

“Been to Long Island a few times,” Puck offers, opting to stand behind the couch and drape his upper half over the top rather than just sit on the thing. “Pretty rad place. You?” he asks, nodding as Artie parks himself in front of the couch.

“Wheelchair flying is kind of a hassle, we try to avoid it,” Artie answers, tapping the arms of his chair. “And my Mom gets motion sickness when we drive anywhere for too long. We tried to drive to Florida once when I was younger.”

“Tried?” Mike asks.

“We got as far as the Ohio border before she made us pull over. We spent the night in a motel in Cincinnati. Dad bought us pizza while Mom made friends with the toilet bowl in the motel bathroom.”

Mike makes a face. That doesn’t sound fun. Puck laughs heartily, “I didn’t know people actually did that.”

Mike turns his head to look at the boy, because, what? “What, get sick?”

“Get motion sickness in cars. I thought that was just on T.V.”

Artie launches into a medical explanation and Mike kind of zones out, not really that interested in what causes someone to feel sick simply from looking out a car window. He’d rather not have those thoughts floating through his head the next time he’s out for a drive.

He glances around the room instead. Everyone is still glowing from their epic performance and news of their win as they wait around for Mr Schue. Lauren is sitting at the other end of the couch, playing Angry Birds. Finn and Quinn are standing off to one side. Quinn is talking and Finn is making a big show of pretending to be listening but actually trying to subtly watch Lauren play her game. Rachel is trying to get Puck’s attention but Puck actually seems to be more interested in Artie’s explanation of the difference between car sickness and vertigo.

Brittany is standing talking with Mercedes and Sam; the two girls are laughing as Sam does an impression of Coach Sylvester when she found out her glee club didn’t win. Mike watches them for a moment and sees Brittany’s eyes flicker over to the doorway every few seconds, waiting.

Sure enough, Tina and Santana finally make their way through the door. Tina mumbles something to the other girl just as they step inside and Mike watches Santana’s face pale. She stops moving for a moment, like her heart has actually stopped beating, as she processes his girlfriend’s words.

Mike looks away, wanting to give Santana a little bit of privacy in the moments she finds out Brittany and Artie are no longer together. Tina is her confidant, not him. He doesn’t want to intrude on their moment.

After a few seconds, however, of pretending to listen to Artie, Mike feels his skin begin to crawl and the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He can feel the heavy gaze Santana is giving him. He keeps his eyes lowered a moment longer, forcibly pulling up a blanks mask, before looking up at her.

Santana’s gaze surprises him. She looks serene for a moment, like someone has just woken her from a hundred year slumber and she’s blinking back the sleep in her eyes to look at her saviour. Her chest is rising and falling slowly and her eyes are wide and glossy. Hopeful. She looks like there is a little flicker of hope inside her that she’s afraid to let grow.

Mike wants to help her hope grow.

When her eyes meet his he holds her gaze a moment and raises his eyebrows, silently questioning her. Then he leads her gaze over to the blonde on the other side of the room, wanting her to make the connection that yes, everything Tina has told her is true. He looks back at her and tries to convey everything he feels.

This is your moment, his look tells her. They have been fighting against each other while simultaneously fighting for each other for so long now; this is the moment Santana needs to realise she has to take the leap. She’s standing on a platform. They’ve both been standing there, facing each other off, bearing their hearts, and Brittany’s slowly been backing away towards the edge to the point where Santana can’t see her anymore.

She needs to step to the edge and jump, trusting Brittany will be there to catch her. That’s what his look tells her. To trust Brittany. To trust herself.

She gets it. He can see that Santana gets it from the little gasp she gives, her whole body flinching back with the knowledge. She leans into Tina slightly, and it’s in this moment Mike sees just how much Santana has been relying on Tina to help her through this mess. The way she subtly seeks out Tina when the truth in his look is almost too much for her. He knew Tina had been there for Santana, but Mike didn’t realise just how deep the bond was.

He smiles at Santana now, wanting to reassure her that everything will be okay, but it’s too late now. Her eyes have left him in favour of Artie, still parked in his wheelchair next to Mike.

He glances sidelong at Artie, watching the boy smile his understanding and nod his approval at Santana. Artie may not know just how deep the connection between Santana and Brittany is, but he knows Brittany was never his. He knows and he understands. His nod at Brittany lets Santana know that it’s okay; she can go get her girl now. There’s nothing in the way except her own fear.

Mike smiles, watching as Santana seems to move in slow motion, her body turning inch by inch to seek out Brittany. The blonde is still chatting with Sam and Mercedes. She’s like their own personal bundle of sunshine, all smiles and giggles. When she feels Santana’s gaze she looks up, a thousand sunrays packed into the smile she sports.

Brittany turns away from the other two but they don’t seem to notice, able to carry on the conversation without her. She cocks her head playfully at Santana, challenging her, the way Mike has seen her do a million times at Jupiter’s when someone thinks they can out-dance her. It isn’t a mean or threatening challenge, simply a ‘ _let’s see what you’ve got’_ sort of look she wears, waiting to see what they can do so she can match it and do better.

From the moment Santana stepped into the room she’s been a rubber band, becoming more and more twisted with each second.

Mike can visibly see the moment the rubber band snaps.

One minute Santana is standing in the doorway, the next she’s in Brittany’s arms. She grabs onto Brittany, arms locking around her neck and Mike worries for a moment that they’re both going to fall over from the force of her impact. But Brittany readjusts, planting her feet and steadying herself as Sam reaches over to make sure she isn’t going to fall into him. He looks a bit confused at the interaction between the two girls, but doesn’t say anything as Santana literally lets her body sag into Brittany.

“They’re cute,” Mike mumbles into Tina’s neck as she drops to sit down on his lap. His arms loop around her middle to hold her there as they both continue to watch scene unfold. His money is on happy tears from Santana and adoring smiles from Brittany by the time it all ends.

Eventually Santana pulls back, looking up desperately into Brittany’s eyes. “You broke up?” She asks meekly, like she is afraid this is all a joke and someone is going to pull the rug out from under her. “You’re single now?”

“Yeah,” Brittany says lamely, giggling and nodding like a puppy.

Santana still looks hesitant, “And he…”

Mike chances a glance at Artie, he’s watching the interaction too. But he doesn’t look hurt. Simply intrigued and a little happy almost, like he’s glad that Brittany’s happy. Mike isn’t sure if it would be a stretch or not to say Artie is happy that Santana is happy, seeing as how he and Santana don’t really get along due to their mutual like for a certain blonde dancer, so he’ll stick with the Brittany is happy idea.

“It’s okay,” Brittany reassures her, still smiling, “He gets it.”

“But I-”

Brittany shoves her playfully, “It’s okay, San.”

Mike’s hands squeeze tighter around Tina when he sees a tear roll down Santana’s cheek. Her hands grip his in response.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He knows that look, the one Brittany’s wearing. It’s her scheming look. “Well, I was kind of hoping you’d notice yourself and that maybe you might just come right out and kiss me t-”

It’s like something out of those ridiculous romantic comedies Tina makes him watch, the way Santana leans up on her toes and kisses Brittany, cutting off her sentence.

God, how has it taken them this long, really?

Mike frowns at how fast Santana pulls back. She looks up nervously at the blonde, teeth worrying her lip, as she waits for Brittany to speak. She doesn’t look around the room, however, to see who’s noticed them, which is something Mike is proud of, since he knows this whole thing started with Santana’s worries about what other people would think. She keeps her eyes locked on Brittany.

Since he’s curious though, he glances away from the couple. Quinn’s leaning against the wall, watching and smiling sweetly. Finn’s standing and looking over Lauren’s shoulder, both of them engrossed in her game. Behind him, Puck is watching, but Rachel’s moved to talk with Sam and Mercedes, both of whom are still oblivious.

Brittany too frowns at how fast Santana pulled away.

Santana picks up on it and tries to explain, “Britt, please-”

“San-”

Santana’s voice wavers with desperation but she pushes the words out, “Be with me, please, I love you, be with me. Be… be my girlfriend.”

Mike feels overcome with a strong urge to clap at the display, but settles for squeezing Tina again. She gives a slight giggle at him but doesn’t look away from the girls.

Santana gives a long whine when Brittany doesn’t answer. Mike has to bite down to keep from laughing at the look Rachel wears when she glances at them when she hears the noise. She’s looking at them like one might look at a kitten who’s tripped over its own feet. Sam blinks, trying to figure out what he’s missed. Mercedes throws a hand over her heart dramatically and coos. Lauren and Finn finally look up from the game, both with semi-confused expressions.

Everyone is watching them now. He doesn’t know if either of them is aware, what with the way they are looking so intently at each other. Santana looks like she’s afraid she’s going to be slapped – her fear of rejection, Mike rationalises. She can’t actually be expecting to be slapped.

The blonde, however, looks all business as she speaks, “Prove to me you want this.”

Mike can see how much Santana really want this, because there is no hesitation in the way she leans up to kiss Brittany again. No nervous looks, no chewed lips, no wrung hands. She just tips her head and kisses Brittany.

She’s just stepped off her platform.

And Brittany’s arms were there to catch her. They loop gently around her back as Santana clings to her, clearly afraid the moment is a dream.

Mike doesn’t hesitate either, except he isn’t kissing anyone. He’s elbowing Puck in the arm when the boy gives a very inappropriate wolf whistle. “Dude, not now.” Puck huffs, eyes rolling.

Puck huffs, eyes rolling.

The whistle seems to have gotten their attention though. They pull apart but stay in each other’s space. Santana’s eyes flicker away for half a second before landing back on Brittany, pleading with her for some sort of direction.

“Santana,” Brittany says playfully, almost mocking how nervous how Santana looks.

“Please.”

Still teasing, Brittany continues, “What about what everyo-”

“I love you.” Tina’s hands squeeze Mike’s at the admission. Mike squeezes back.

And then nearly chokes on his own laugh at how Santana comically spins and addresses everyone else in the room. She looks absolutely terrified but her words are clear and sure, “I love her. I’m gay. I love Brittany.” Mike is really having a hard time with how blunt this all is. It’s sweet, but kind of awkward and amusing all rolled together. “I like girls. I love her.” She turns her back on them again as her hands grab Brittany’s. “Be my girlfriend.” 

After months of wanting nothing but this, Brittany agrees. “Since you asked so nicely.” They fall into another hug and Santana visibly relaxes in Brittany’s arms because finally, something has gone right.

“Really Santana,” Quinn asks, raising an eyebrow and shaking her head. “‘I love her. I’m gay.’ Really? That’s how you’re going to do it? I was expecting something a little more profound.”

Mike tries not to snort. Tina digs her nails into his hands as punishment, silencing him.

“W-what?” Santana asks nervously, turning in Brittany’s arms.

Quinn continues, undeterred, “If you’ll remember, none of us had a problem with Kurt or his sexuality. I’m glad you told us,” a smile breaks through, “Albeit kind of bluntly. But we knew. We were all just waiting for you to man up and admit it.”

Finn gets their attention by raising his hand like he’s asking permission to speak in class. “Uh, I didn’t actually know. It’s cool though, it’s cool.” He stops for a beat before exclaiming, “Oh, hey, my brother’s gay too! You should totally meet him.”

Mike doesn’t know what to do with Finn sometimes but shake his head.

“I didn’t know either,” Mercedes says while Lauren nods along with her.

Quinn huffs, “Okay. Those of us with eyes who were actually watching you knew. But we’re all happy you and Brittany finally worked it out.”

Everything Quinn said is true, Mike thinks. After months of seeing the torture they’ve been through, after months of being there for Brittany when she didn’t know where to go or how to find her footing, he’s glad they’ve finally reached their happy ending.

“Yeah, I’m happy now too,” Brittany beams. “I get you as my best friend and my girlfriend, all in one.”

Mike really wants to just get up and go hug her, to hug them both, because he’s so proud of – oh.

Santana’s rushed over to them and is forcibly pulling Tina off his lap. His arms tighten around her for a moment before letting her be tugged to her feet, only to be swallowed in a desperate hug from Santana. She’s hugging Tina almost as tightly as she was hugging Brittany.

When this is all over and done with, he really wants to ask Tina what went down between her and Santana to create such a strong bond. Because he’s pretty sure he’s never seen Santana hug Tina like this before.

“You’re competing with Rachel for most dramatic at this point, you know.” Tina scolds happily. But Santana just squeezes tighter before pulling back slightly to look her in the eye. Something strong passes between the two, a whispered thanks. Mike can’t make out the words, but he can see the sincerity in Santana’s eyes. She’s grateful for her friendship with Tina.

He catches Brittany’s eye and she ducks her head slightly, blushing. He waits, knowing she’ll cave and look up eventually. And she does, bobbing her head as she looks back at him and smiles demurely, mouthing, “Thank you. For everything.” Her eyes are moist.

Mike nods his head; she knows he’d do anything for her. And she’d do anything for him. That’s what they do. They’re the Jellyfish and the Lobster, best friends and kick ass dance partners. He may not always understand the situation she’s gotten herself into, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be there to help if she asks. He’ll always lend Brittany his ear.


End file.
